


Sinking

by sirtalen



Series: The Redemption of Christopher [2]
Category: In Nomine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 19:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11653653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirtalen/pseuds/sirtalen
Summary: When Christopher, the Archangel of Children, is captured by Andrealphus, the Demon Prince of Lust, nothing good can come of the situation. Especially when Heaven's politics interfere with any rescue attempt.





	1. Chapter 1

Fleurity lit up a toke, took a long draw, and examined the naked, chained figure in front of them.  "He's not gonna get out of that, is he?"  The stone lined room was deep under Andre's Brothel, below even the chambers reserved for those souls who thought they didn't get  _enough_  abuse from just walking the streets of Shal-Mari.  
  
Andre laughed, his voice high pitched and grating.  "Those will shackles could hold Michael.  This over-ambitious little Cherub isn't going anywhere." The Prince of was morphed today into something… well it looked almost female, or maybe it was a really pretty guy, or something in between.   _Crap, you'd think I'd be able to get a better buzz off this shit so I wouldn't have to worry about it,_  Fluerity mused, and took another hit.  
  
He reached over and ground out the toke in the prisoner's ear.  The Cherub twisted his head away, moaning in pain, the drugs not quite cleared out of his system enough to wake up.  The shackles holding the Cherub off the floor were already red from the blood running from his wrists, but they looked tight enough that there would be no slipping out of them.  
  
Andre made a  _tch_ -ing noise, and blew the glowing embers from the prisoner's ear.  He stroked the Cherub's genitals.  The prisoner tried to twist away again, but the Prince of Lust tightened his grip, and suddenly the Cherub awakened with a start.  The prisoner's eyes widened as he realized where he was, and who had captured him.  
  
"Hello, Christopher," Andre crooned, stroking the Cherub Archangel's hair, "we're going to have such  _fun_  together."  
  
* * *  
  
Michael fought the urge to start tapping his foot on the floor of the Seraphim Council chamber as Laurence slowly made his way to the front of the room.  The Commander of the Host was trying to contain his righteous anger, and he wasn't doing a very good job of it.  No big surprise, considering that for the second time in less than a century one of their own decided to take a walk and not tell anybody.   _Fucking stupid **kid** ,_ he thought irritably,  _at least Eli put his house in order before he left._  
  
It was a full house in the chambers, for the first time in at least a couple of decades.   _Nothing like a crisis we can't do anything about to bring everybody together._  
  
The Archangel of the Sword waited a moment for the room to settle down, and then began to speak.  
  
"These are the facts that are known to me," he said, eyes hard.  "Christopher is missing.  Has been missing for at least a fortnight, possibly longer.  He has not appeared in the Council Chambers, in his own Cathedral, nor at any of Children's Tethers.  Worse still, he has not answered the invocations of his Servitors, even when desperately needed on at least two occasions.  Unfortunately this situation, in my opinion, is consistent with the pattern of behavior he has been exhibiting since Druiel, Seraph Angel of Teenage Death, Fell into the service of Saminga.  We must now determine if there is any indication he has Fallen himself, or perhaps become voluntarily Outcast, as Eli has done.  And if that is so, we must determine how to bring him back to Heaven, to be properly chastised."  
  
The Council chamber rumbled as the Archangels digested that statement.  No mercy, Michael realized.   _After losing Eli, Laurence and Dominic aren't going to hesitate to bring Christopher to heel, if they can find him._   And they probably wouldn't take the risk of ending up with another basket case like Gabriel, who from the looks of her had reached the same conclusion as the Archangel of War had.  The Wheel of Fire was spinning agitatedly above her seat, trying to deny the obvious.   _If they catch Chris, the best the kid can hope for is to be stripped of his Archangel status.  At worst…_   Michael heard himself sigh, and stroked the handle of his axe.   _I took on the Lightbringer himself, even when we weren't sure what he had done.  And you don't use a sword for an execution._  
  
Dominic twisted himself out of his seat, his six red eyes blinking.   "I would remind those here," Judgment said, "that however much Christopher has made himself disliked in the previous few months, that does not make a proper investigation unnecessary.  We must discover the reasons behind his disappearance, and if it was done out of disrespect for Council's, Heaven's, or God's strictures, then he must be brought to bear for his crimes.  If there are extenuating circumstances, however, those also must be judged, and Right Mercy applied if called for."  
  
 _Hellfire, the Cloak is getting mellow in his old age._   Michael glanced around to try and get the measure of the other Council members.  Novalis and Zadkiel, Chris' fellow Cherubs and most consistent defenders, were nodding in agreement, glad that no one was rushing to Judgment.  Janus was grinning, but then Janus was always grinning, especially when the Council got a hair up its collective ass.  Jean and Khalid looked sanguine, content that Judgment wasn't acting precipitously.  David, along with Laurence, was looking vastly unhappy.  No surprise there, given the he and Christopher weren't exactly on speaking terms anymore.  And Yves looked like… well,  _Yves_ , sitting quietly in his seat, a lit cigarette in his hand, brushing the occasional ash droppings off his sweater.   _Speak up, you old man_ , Michael thought in frustration,  _Christopher might be David's offspring, but he was Destiny's child.  Don't you **care**  about what's happening?_  
  
And that left Marc, who hadn't said a single word to anyone since entering the Council chamber, but who gained everyone's rapt attention when he stood up, stretched his wings, and cleared his throat.  
  
"Lord Commander," the Archangel of Trade began, looking unhappy.  "I believe I can answer your concerns about Christopher's current… status."  
  
"By all means, give whatever information you can to the Council's attention," Laurence replied, ceding the floor to him.  
  
"Thank you, Lord Commander."  Marc said, still frowning.  "You will understand why I do not wish to reveal the exact nature of some my sources, given the precariousness of their current positions, and the terrible consequences if their treachery is revealed."  
  
"That is understood," Laurence replied.  "We will rest assured that your sources have your trust, and the Truth they reveal has been confirmed."  
  
"Yes," Marc agreed.  "That said, an agent of Trade, who has been lately following the Ang—the Demon of Teenage Death, revealed that he was given leave from Saminga's service temporarily, and placed in the service of Fleurity, Demon Prince of Drugs, apparently at Drugs' behest.  In turn, Fluerity and Druiel were observed entering Andrealphus' Brothel and remaining there for some time.  They emerged only  _after_  a minor Habbalite in the service of Drugs was sent to Earth, to leave a message for Christopher's  _personal_  attention at one of Children's Tethers."  
  
 _Oh, no.  Stupid, **fucking stupid**  kid…_  
  
"Christopher was observed arriving at the Tether, and reading the message.  He then left the Tether's locus, at approximately the same time that Andre, Fluerity, and Druiel also arrived on Earth.  The Seneschal of the Tether, as we already know, was the last angel to see Christopher in the past fortnight."  
  
"He would have fought," Zadkiel interrupted, "he would have caused Disturbance in the struggle.  Christopher would  _not_  have gone willingly with any Demon Prince, least of all  Lust and Drugs."  
  
"One would assume," Marc agreed, "But all I can tell you is that when Andre and Fluerity returned to the Brothel they had a hooded and shackled prisoner with them, which they immediately took inside and into the lowest vaults of that place."  
  
 _Rumble, rumble…_  
  
Laurence rapped sharply on his gavel and the noise in the room subsided.  "Thank you, Lord Marc," the Angel of the Sword said gravely.  "The news you have brought to us is valuable, but I fear it is incomplete.  We request that you investigate further, and attempt to confirm whether Children truly is being held in the clutches of Lust.  Then we will be in a position to discuss what should be done next."  
  
 _Fuck, he is **not**  going to do this._  Michael stood up and rapped the Council table with the butt of his axe.  "With  _respect,_  Lord Commander, one of our own may be in hands of two demon princes.  Whatever Christopher's faults, and believe me I've got my beefs with the little idiot too, waiting for  _confirmation_  of Marc's information might be the difference between rescuing him and sweeping up whatever Forces Andre and Fluerity forgot to pick up off the floor."  
  
" _Yes, yes, yes!_ " Gabriel burst out, ”Smite the Whore and the Clouder of Minds.  Smite them down for their crimes!"  
  
Laurence rapped on his gavel again.  "What do you suggest, Lord Michael?  Do you care to venture what forces Andre and Fluerity might have to keep an Archangel under control?  No, we must find out more.  I will not risk a direct assault upon a demon prince's Cathedral without the information we need to make it work.  That is my decision and it will stand until I receive what information I need to revise it.  In the meantime, I nominate Zadkiel, Archangel of Protection, to act as Seneschal for the Servitors of Children, until such time as Christopher can be returned to us."  He paused.  "If it is possible for him to return."  
  
"Seconded," Yves said softly.  With Destiny behind it the motion passed unanimously, with only Michael and a gravely upset Zadkiel abstaining.  
  
 _FUCK._  
  
* * *  
  
Five minutes after the Seraphim Council finished its business, Michael headed over to Laurence's Cathedral on the double-quick, the measure of his anger and _intent_  making relievers and lesser angels find reason to scramble out of his way.  He burst into Laurence's office without bothering to announce himself.  
  
"What the Hell was that all about in the Council chamber, Laurence?" Michael demanded.  
  
The Malakim of the Sword laid his hands flat on his desk and raised an eyebrow at the Seraph of War.  "That was certainly quick," Laurence said with deceptive mildness.  "I was anticipating your discussing this matter with Marc or Zadkiel before approaching me privately."  
  
"What's to discuss?  You're leaving one of our own hanging out to dry, in the hands of one of the most patently  _sadistic_  of the Fallen."  Michael began to pace in front of Laurence's desk.  "We need to get Christopher out of there now."  
  
"We don't know for certain that's he's  _in_  there," Laurence pointed out.  "All that is known for certain is that he is missing.  Supposition is not evidence."  
  
"What more evidence do you need, a signed confession from Andre himself?" Michael spat.  
  
"I wish to be certain that this is not some elaborate ruse to attract an even more tempting target.  Do you wish to rescue Children so badly that you are willing to place yourself at risk?  What if you enter Andre's Brothel and find yourself facing Baal, and God only knows how many other Demon Princes that might in on the scheme?"  
  
"I don't make excuses for inaction.  Fine, if you need more evidence I’ll get it for you.  Tactical & Strategic Reconnaissance are my Words after all.  A quick recce followed by small strike team and we can…"  
  
"You will place neither yourself nor any of your Wordbound at risk, Lord Michael," Laurence stated flatly.  "That is an order."  
  
"It'll be a low-risk op…"  
  
" _NO_."  The power of Laurence's status as Commander of the Host rang loud in that one simple word, and Michael fought the sudden compulsion to abase himself before the Heavenly Host's supreme leader.  
  
"As you command, Lord Laurence," Michael said through gritted teeth.  
  
"Thank you, Lord Michael," Laurence, looking regretful, "Please, I beg that you not force me to use my Voice again."  
  
Michael damped down his anger with effort.  "Then don't give me orders I am compelled to question, Lord Laurence.  Give me good reasons why we are leaving an Archangel in the hands of Horde."  
  
"I have already given them."  
  
"No, Lord Commander, you gave excuses, and you gave unfounded fears.  You have not given me a  _reason._   Don't try and tell an old Seraph like me the difference between Truth and beating around the issue."  
  
"Very well, Michael.  A reason you want then a reason you will have."  Laurence drew in a breath and released it slowly.  "As Lord Commander of the Host, and as leader of the Seraphim Council, I do not believe an attempt to rescue Lord Christopher is worth the price it might cost us."  
  
" _Might_ ," Michael said tightly.  Well, he had asked for Truth, and he had received it.  He just wished it had come as more of a surprise.  
  
"'Might'," Laurence agreed.  "No one more than I would like to be proven wrong, but I've had my own servitors running various scenarios.  At minimum an assault on Shal-Mari and the Brothel would cost us several Wordbound.  The worst-case scenario has you being captured and tortured for information, prior to your Forces being absorbed by Baal and/or Lucifer."  
  
Michael blinked.  "You got briefed by Marc prior to the Council meeting?" he asked in surprise.  
  
"Of course.  Trade is too conscientious to drop such a surprise without giving me prior warning."  
  
 _I would have appreciated a chance to run some scenarios myself, **thank you**_   But Michael kept that complaint to himself for the moment.  "We are the Host, Laurence.  Whatever sacrifices myself or other Wordbound might make, it would be a sacrifice we are  _willing_  to make to do what is right.  You cannot tell me that leaving Christopher bereft of any hope of rescue is  _right_."  
  
"No, it is not right," Laurence admitted, "but in the final analysis the cost would outweigh any benefits, for ourselves, for Heaven, or for the Symphony as a whole.  You speak well on his behalf, Michael, but surely even you weren't willing to turn a blind eye to Christopher's errors in judgment much longer."  
  
Michael raised a finger in protest.  "That isn't what's at issue here."  
  
Laurence's expression hardened.  "On the contrary, it's at the heart of the issue.  Christopher has been verging on Discord ever since Druiel Fell.  He has revealed tactical information to the Horde, he has ignored his responsibilities as an Archangel and left his Word untended, he has insulted his elders, and when called out on his errors, he has had the audacity to resort to petulance to defend himself.  The Word of Children was weakened by his actions, perhaps dangerously so.  If he were not in the Horde's hands it is doubtful that situation would have improved.  Therefore, I will not place an Archangel, nor a powerful Wordbound, nor even a Reliever at risk to rescue him.  He simply is not worth it."  
  
 _I am not going to punch the Lord Commander of the Host in the face,_  Michael thought firmly.  But he damned well could give him a punch to the gut.  "If he was going dissonant because of losing Druiel to Saminga, then this entire situation is your fault."  
  
There was nothing like a good tactical strike to provoke a response.  " _My_  fault?" Laurence said in amazement.  "What brings you to that conclusion?"  
  
"You're forgetting, Laurence.  Druiel was in service to the  _Sword_  when he Fell.  Assigned to what has to be the most  _screwed up_  posting in the Symphony.  And you weren't there to see the signs that he was perverting his Word.  Christopher  _trusted_  you with Druiel's well being when he permitted you to take one of his Words into your service.  And you let them both down."  
  
Laurence was doing a good job at reining his temper in, but Michael could tell that the jab had hurt.  "You are forgetting the unique situation in Austin at the time.  I can hardly be held personally responsible for the illegal and immoral fraternization between the members of the Host and the Horde that were assigned to that city.  Every angel there that knew of Druiel's activities had an obligation to bring him to Judgment's attention.  The fact that this was not done is a shame upon all the Host."  
  
Michael rapped Laurence's desk with his fist.  "Wrong, sir.  It was a shame upon  _you_.  You didn't check up on him often enough to see the signs yourself, and you were the one that lost him."  He took in a breath.  "So is that why you're so eager to let Christopher get raped to death by Andre, so you don't have to look him in the face and explain to a lowly Cherub how badly you screwed up?"  
  
Laurence shot out of his seat.  " _You go too far, Lord Michael._ "  
  
Michael didn't back down this time.  "I haven't gone anywhere near far enough yet, Laurence.  Druiel was one of Christopher's most powerful Wordbound.  Yet you yanked him into Sword's service without so much as asking politely.  You want to tell me just what the  _Hell_  did the Sword need of a servitor of Children that badly for?"  
  
"I had my reasons," Laurence said, still angry, but with some of the fire in his eyes banked.  
  
"Explain then.  I'm in a listening mood."  
  
Laurence sat back down, gathering his thoughts.  "It was obvious to me, and perhaps to Christopher as well, that Druiel was not comfortable with the shaping of his Word by modern beliefs.  'Live fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse' I believe is the current expression.  A far cry from the simple concept of mortality touching those who have not yet achieved full maturity, as it was in centuries past.  In Children's organization, he was an outsider, concerned with things too serious for the amount of… frivolity… that is the norm for Christopher's servitors."  
  
"You think Chris' servitors can't be serious, then you haven't met one his Cherub's protecting a kid," Michael noted.  "I've seen 'em do stuff that would've given one of my Malakim reason to pause."  
  
Laurence nodded.  "Be that as it may, Druiel was uncertain of his place in the Symphony.  I thought that if I placed him under my command he find a more comfortable place, even if he remained in Christopher's service."  
  
"Good God, you were _headhunting?_ "  
  
"I was not," Laurence said sharply.  "I did not wish to undermine Christopher's Word by permanently removing one of his Wordbound.  I merely wished to have Druiel trust me enough so that he might… speak openly to me… about certain matters."  
  
"Oh, you weren't headhunting, you were  _spying_ ," Michael shot back.  "What did Christopher do before Druiel went leatherwing to make you so suspicious?"  
  
"You would know that reason better than I, Lord Michael," Laurence said.  "You know perfectly well that the Word of Children is… problematical."  
  
Michael snorted.  "Not his fault.  He  _earned_  his Word, Laurence.  Though come to think of it, you did abstain from voting during the debate to grant him Archangelic status.  I'd always wondered why you did that."  
  
"I wondered why so many of did not."  Laurence let out sigh.  "What happened to Christopher, whether or not Druiel was at the heart of it, only shows how precarious his Word is.  He was undermined from the start of things, and it's quite possible that I contributed to it."  
  
"So how about helping shore things up?  Give me the word and I'll get him out, or die trying."  
  
"For just that reason, I won't," Laurence said firmly.  "My order stands, Lord Michael.  You  _will not_  take any offensive action against Andre, Fluerity, or their Cathedrals, or their Tethers, or their servitors unless I order it.  I also expect you to respect both the letter and the  _spirit_  of my order, and not make any 'creative interpretations.'  If there is a means to be found to rescue Christopher without significant risk to the Host, then rest assured it will be taken, but you will not take any actions in that direction without my authorization."  
  
Michael started pacing again.  "For the love of God's Creation, Lord Commander, you can't just order me to sit on my hands and do nothing!"  
  
"That is exactly what I have ordered, and my order will stand until you hear it countermanded from mine own Voice," Laurence said coldly.  "You are dismissed, Lord Michael."  
  
Michael drew in a breath to let out another retort, then let it pass.  Turning on his heel, he marched out of Laurence's office, his back stiff with anger.  He'd lost this battle.  _But I'll Fall before I ever lose the War._  
  
* * *  
  
The announcement had not gone over well.  But then Zadkiel couldn't imagine under what circumstances it would have been welcome.  
  
"Christopher, Cherub Archangel of Children and your Lord, we now believe has been captured by the combined forces of Lust and Drugs, and is even now being held in Shal-Mari," she had began.  She stood before every one of Children's servitors that could be pulled from their duties to attend, in front of Christopher's Cottage by the Lake.  No Blessed Souls though.  Even if they could be brought to understand what was happening, despite their youth, Zadkiel had judged that Christopher would not have appreciated upsetting them in such a manner.  
  
She waited for the collective gasp of horror and dismay to ripple through the crowd.  Angels clutched each other for comfort, while the relievers let out squeaks of dismay, most hiding behind their elder brethren for protection, or at least some small succor that would provide a bulwark against the horror.  
  
"At this time, the Seraphim Council is gathering information, before choosing a firm course of action."  Truth, but not the whole Truth of the thing, and Zadkiel damned herself for softening the events of that Council meeting.  Right now she needed Children's undivided loyalty, obedience, and attention.  That would not be accomplished by veering off on an editorial against Laurence's command decision.  "When our Lord Commander has sufficient information, we then will decide what to do to aid Christopher."   _possibly whether to do anything at all._  
  
"The Council has chosen me to act as Children's Seneschal, until this… situation… is resolved.  I ask that you follow my orders as you would Christopher's.  In turn I pledge to listen to you as Christopher listened to you, and respond to your summonses as he would.  For those angels already serving in the Corporeal Realm, I ask that you continue your assignments as before.  For those without duties at this time, I will speak to you shortly."  Work was what was needed right now, Zadkiel believed.  Work helped to occupy the mind, and prevented fear of the enemy on the other side of the walls from bringing defeat before the first charge.  
  
 _Which enemy?_  she wondered.  
  
"Those who are responsible for tending to the Blessed Souls under Children's care, I ask that you avoid mentioning Christopher's current… status… to them, if possible.  I know what restrictions you operate under when you speak to the young, but do your best."  She gave them a sharp nod.  "That is all."  
  
The gathered angels began to disperse, talking in low, worried tones.  Zadkiel watched them leave, taking the opportunity to examine them as individuals, not  _en masse_.  Not for the first time since Christopher's promotion to Archangel, she noted how many  _odd_  looking celestials had been drawn to Children's service.  Many Creationers of course, who were attracted to the natural affinity between children, the act of creating a new life, and the creativity the young.  Many more were gifted from the elder Archangels, to bolster Christopher's organization as it gained it's footing.  More than a few of those were considered oddballs in their previous Superior's hierarchy, there not so much because their possible affinity for Children as their lack of affinity for anything else.  
  
But Children was not, Christopher had once taken pains to reassure her, any sort of "dumping ground."  The angels that were under his wing were there because they belonged there, and were loved there, not because they lacked any such love from their old boss.  More than a couple had once been of Protection, Zadkiel reminded herself, and had actually  _requested_  transfer to Children's hierarchy.  She'd granted those requests without any qualms, and with her blessings.  
  
At the corner of her perception, Zadkiel sensed one angel's approach.  She turned to face a tall, pale figure with black wings, dressed merely in a white sheet, and with chains hanging from her wrists and ankles.  Not to mention the most extraordinary hair, deep black, curly and stacked up like a leaning tower, with white lightning bolts shot through the sides.  
  
It took a moment, but she finally made the Corporeal connection.   _The Bride of Frankenstein?_  Zadkiel thought in bemusement.  
  
"Lady Zadkiel," the unusual Malakite greeted, bowing deeply, "I am Elsa of Creation, Malakite Angel of Halloween Candy, in service to Children."  
  
"Halloween Candy?" Zadkiel repeated.  "Forgive me, but that sounds like a Word that should belong to a Glutton."  
  
"It did, once," Elsa answered, her face holding a satisfied smile, "not anymore."  
  
"I see.  Well then, how may I help you, Elsa?"  
  
"I just wish to volunteer my services, Milady," Elsa answered.  "During the time of the year when my Word is not quite so prominent, Christopher has me act as the administrator for his Cottage.  I know almost every angel in his Word, and I think I'm in the best position to tell you which would be suitable for the rescue mission."  
  
"What rescue mission?"   _Please, God, spare me from enthusiasm._  
  
Elsa frowned in confusion.  "The Council is preparing a rescue mission, is it not?  I understand if you needed to be somewhat cautionary to the rank and file, but I assure you I have Christopher's utmost confidence.  Whatever they are actually planning, I am ready to help in any way that I can."  
  
"Elsa…"  Zadkiel sighed, and gathered her thoughts.  She would not lie to this Malakite, nor hedge the Truth.  Elsa didn't deserve it.  None of Children did, really.  "Elsa, there is no rescue mission being currently planned.  It is entirely possible that  _no_  rescue mission will be planned, ever."  
  
"What?" Elsa said sharply, drawing curious stares from a few servitors.   Zadkiel took firm hold of her hand and moved them to Christopher's office with a quick Song of Motion.  
  
Privacy assured, Zadkiel continued.  "There is no rescue mission being planned, Elsa.  Lord Laurence specifically forbid War from making any attempt, for fear it might be a trap to ensnare a more…"  Zadkiel faltered for a moment.  
  
"…important Archangel?" Elsa finished darkly.  
"All Archangels have Laurence's respect," Zadkiel said carefully.  
  
Elsa's frown deepened, and the blackness of her Malakite countenance grew pronounced. "But some have more respect than others. Do not try and tell me that isn't Truth."  
  
"Truth," Zadkiel agreed, and thought it might be prudent to block this line of thought before it could go any further. "Laurence, by necessity, must put the greater health of the Host ahead of any sentimental considerations. Losing Christopher would be a tragedy. Were we to lose Michael, or any of the other remaining pre-Fall Archangels, it would be a disaster from which the Host might not recover."  
  
"Christopher is _important,_ " Elsa said sharply, mantling her wings in frustration. "Why is the rest of the Host blind to the implications of his Word? Childhood is the beginning of the road to one's Destiny, or Fate. If a human child lacks for love, or the necessities of life, falling to his Fate is often unavoidable."  
  
Zadkiel raised her palms in defense. "You don't have to tell me the importance of Children. Recall how closely my Word relates, for there's no one more helpless towards their own Protection than an infant. But the fact is that Christopher is the youngest of the Archangels. He's held his post for a mere eyeblink in the Host's terms. You can't expect him to have the sway that Dominic or Yves hold."  
  
"But…"  
  
"Which does not mean that I'm not as unhappy as you are about this situation," she finished. "Michael is blocked from proceeding further. Fortunately, Laurence neglected to place his ban on the entirety of the Host. You aren't the only one who is wishing deeply for a rescue mission to be mounted."  
  
Elsa's eyes brightened. "You mean you intend to rescue Christopher yourself?"  
  
Zadkiel frowned, and Elsa's face drooped a little in response. "If I can, and only if I may do so without placing Children as a whole at risk. I have been charged with overseeing Christopher's Word while he cannot. I must see to its defense, in case Andre or Fleurity might take this opportunity bring the Cottage and all the angels in it crashing to the ground. I will not see Christopher rescued, only to find the ranks of his servitors decimated."  
  
"Milady…" Elsa began, then paused a moment to compose herself, "I am of Creation, fledged a mere century ago. For half of my existence the Archangel I pledged myself to has left me, and my brothers and sisters in Creation, abandoned and adrift. Christopher granted me shelter in this time of confusion and loss. Should Eli come back to Heaven this very day I would have to consider carefully whether I wished to return to him, or stay with the Superior who has never taken my honor and oaths for granted. Should I be forced to pledge my loyalty to a third Archangel…" Her face grew hard. "I would rather have my Forces stripped from me, one by one, until there was nothing of me left. And I am not alone in this thought."  
  
Zadkiel took hold of Elsa's hand. The Malakite's Oath chains brushed against the Cherub's arm, feeling cold and heavy. "Are there so many of Creation that think as you do?" she asked.  
  
"In Children itself? I am not the only one. Those in service to other Words, I cannot say," Elsa admitted. Her free hand took hold of the chains that bound her and pulled them tight against herself. "It hurts, Lady Zadkiel. I cannot tell you how it hurts, to know that Eli created us, only to leave us adrift. He loved us, so he said, so I  _felt_ , but then he  _left_. You cannot understand, Milady, what that feels like. I can only think of one who is not Creation who might."  
  
 _Dissonance.  
  
"Who?"_ Zadkiel asked, and suddenly Elsa's face grew stricken, "What is the matter? Who is in Heaven that feels such pain?"  
  
The Malakite shook her head, facing the ground. "I cannot say, Lady Zadkiel."  
  
"I ask."  
  
"I  _cannot say_ , Milady," Elsa repeated, raising her eyes to look at Zadkiel. It was the face of someone who would rather die than continue. The face of a Malakite in the depths of shame at betraying her oaths.  
  
"Elsa," Zadkiel said carefully, "please repeat your oaths to me."  
  
"Milady Zadkiel, I do not wish to."  
  
"I am Seneschal of Children, Elsa of Creation," Zadkiel said carefully, firmly. "Assigned by the Council, and speaking with Children's Voice, until such time as Christopher can be returned to us. If you are loyal to Christopher then you must show the same loyalty to me. Now,  _what_  are your oaths?"  
  
Elsa shut her eyes, tears welling within them. "Suffer not an evil to live, if it is my choice.  Never surrender or allow myself to be captured by the forces of Lucifer.  Do not allow my Word to be twisted by the forces of Gluttony.  Maintain Christopher's Cathedral to the best of my ability. Speak not of the angel in the in Caves of Adventure save to Christopher himself." She winced as Dissonance wracked her.  
  
"Be at peace, Elsa," Zadkiel said gently. She sung, harmonizing with the notes Dissonance and easing them from the Malakite's form. "Which chain holds that last oath?"  
  
Elsa silently eased open the sheet that covered her, revealing the chain wrapped around her chest. _How dangerous is this oath, that a Malakite would hide it from the view of her fellow angels?_  Zadkiel thought in wonder. She took hold of it with both hands, and snapped the links. Elsa's cry of relief was heartbreaking.  
  
"Elsa, tell me of the angel in the Caves of Adventure," she asked gently.  
  
"Please, Milady, please don't ask this of me. I promised Christopher," Elsa said desperately.  
  
"No chain binds you now, and I am Children's Seneschal. Now tell me."  
  
"Even with my oath broken I cannot, Milady," Elsa said, bowing her head once again, "but I will take you to her."  
  
* * *  
  
He lay huddled in the corner of his cell, after they had let him down, after Andre had finished…  …had finished with him.    
  
 _I am an Archangel. No chains can bind me._  
  
They pulled him down and left him there on the floor of his cell, naked, the will shackles pinioning his wrists, his ankles, his being.  
  
 _I am an Archangel.  No chains can bind me._  
  
And when he knew he was alone, he wept.  
  
 _No chains… no chains…_  
  
He hadn't thought it would hurt so, but Andre had found way to  _make it_  hurt.  Christopher had not felt such pain since the first time he had lost an Attuned.  And what was worse was that Andre seemed to take no particular pleasure from it, his voice never rising above a cool, detached observational tone, even as Christopher screamed.  
  
"Aww, is the little Archangel gonna cry?" a familiar voice said, on the aside of the barred door.  For one brief moment Christopher thought rescue had come, but then he remembered how the owner of that voice had changed.  
  
"Druiel…" he dragged himself out of his corner and turned to face the balseraph who stood before him.  He wore his favorite human form, a handsome teenaged male in a black leather jacket, no different from how he manifested himself in Heaven's realm.  Except for the sneer he wore now as he faced his former Superior.  
  
Duriel unlocked the cell door and  kneeled down beside him.  "Not looking so good, are you, Dad?"  He smiled unpleasantly.  "You should'a heard Andrephalus talking about what he was going to do to you.  Trust me, he hasn't even  _started_  to work you over."  
  
Christopher tried to draw himself upright.  Impossible, given the weight of his chains, but he had to make the attempt.  The best he could managed was a pained crouch.  "Druiel…  You called to me.  You said you wanted to come home…"  
  
The balseraph laughed.  "I wrote a  _note_.  You can't resonate the Truth of a  _note_ , Dad.  You just walked in there expecting me to be on my knees,  _begging_  to be forgiven."  He drew back his fist, and punched Christopher in the stomach.  "I don't  _want_  to be forgiven, get it?"  
  
Christopher doubled over, and fell to the floor in a tangle of chains.  He drew his head up to look Druiel in the eyes.  "I didn't want you to beg…"  
  
" _Bullshit_."  
  
"All I wanted to hear, was that you knew what you had done was wrong…"  
  
Druiel's booted foot caught Christopher in the ribs.  "I… (kick) didn't… (kick)  do… (kick) anything… (kick)  _wrong!"_  
  
The pain of the beating didn't hurt, he realized, not as much as the realization that Druiel thought he was right.  Even without self-resonating himself, the young Balseraph thought he was right, Christopher suspected.  "You killed all those girls…"  
  
"They were _asking_  for it.  Every one of them  _wanted it_.  I was serving my  _Word_."  
  
He let out a hiss of breath.  "Your Word was Teenage Death.  You were  _supposed_  to be providing succor… and understanding about the concept… not  _cause it to happen_."  
  
"Sorry I didn't get the memo," Druiel said, pushing Christopher away with one final kick.  "I was working for Larry at the time!"  
  
His form was more of a concept than an actual body.  Nevertheless, it was accurate to say that it hurt  _as much_ as if he'd had several ribs broken.  "And you didn't once…  think to ask him for guidance?"  
  
"The Lord Commander of the Host?" Druiel sneered.  "Like he would have even talked to me."  
  
"He was your acting… Superior…  It was his  _responsibility…_ "  
  
"And where were  _you?_ " the balseraph demanded.  
  
"Laurence took you… from me…"  Christopher let out a sigh.  "I did not… think to question it… or how you were getting along… in his service…  My great error."  
  
"You're just as stupid as I always thought you were then," Druiel said, and Christopher could hear the self-justifying lie in his voice.    
  
"Druiel… one question," he requested.  
  
"What?"  
  
"In Saminga's service…  are you truly happier?"  
  
Duriel smiled down on him.  "I'm great.  Never better.  Saminga is a way better boss than  _you_  ever were, Dad."  
  
He should have kept silent, but what he heard reflected in Druiel's words he could not ignore.  "You… lie…" he whispered.  
  
The subsequent beating was almost worth it.  
  
* * *  
  
 _Interlude_  
  
  
"You will be White?"  
  
"Always."  
  
A pawn was moved forward.  
  
"I have word of discontent in your ranks."  
  
The move was matched.  
  
"Exaggerated.  We bicker, but share the same goals."  
  
A knight leaped forward.  
  
"And what goal does Heaven's wayward son represent?"  
  
A bishop sallied forth to meet it.  
  
"Strength, in the face of loss."  
  
A rook was shifted.  
  
"So, you have given up hope?"  
  
Another knight entered the field.  
  
"There is always hope."  
  
…  
  
"Your move."  
  
"Pass."  
  
Another pawn moved out.  
  
"I have heard, from reliable sources, that the Brothel has a guest."  
  
The first pawn neared the battle line.  
  
"We were aware."  
  
A knight leaped forward, and the pawn was removed from the board.  
  
"Are you aware of the nature of his invitation?"  
  
The bishop smote the knight.  
  
"No."  
  
Another rook slid out.  
  
"It appears that a certain alchemical solution has remarkable effects upon celestials.  If they are unprepared for it."  
  
Unexpectedly, a pawn moved forward to block the rook.  
  
"So it was<I.> not</I> by choice."  
  
Boldly, a queen moved forward.  
  
"You thought it might be?"  
  
A king was brought to the tower for safety, and the tower was moved to replace him.  
  
"It was a possibility."  
  
A pawn was lost to the rook.  
  
"I see."  
  
The rook fell to the queen's might.  
  
"I doubt it."  
  
…  
  
"Your move."  
  
"Pass."  
  
The opposing queen was released onto the field.  
  
"The shield maiden guards the cottage."  
  
A pawn was moved.  
  
"We were aware."  
  
And was struck down.  
  
"The axe-bearer has been removed from the field, after protesting to the field marshall."  
  
Another took it's place.  
  
" _That_  we were not aware of.  The reasoning?"  
  
A queen seduced a knight, and caused his downfall.  
  
"I cannot say."  
  
The remaining knight quested for vengance.  
  
"I seem to lack for pawns."  
  
…  
  
"There is a certain couple in Anhui Province, China.  They live quietly, selling healing herbs of remarkable potency.  The villagers appreciate their selflessness."  
  
A pawn died.  
  
"I am corrected."  
  
A rook met the surviving knight, and fell before it.  
  
"And …?"  
  
But the surviving knight was no match for the queen.  
  
"What the whore has, is not what the whore seeks."  
  
A bishop moved to protect the king.  
  
"What would make her happy?"  
  
The queen struck the bishop down.  
  
"The innocent child she lost."  
  
The king retreated to safety.  
  
"She has no more children."  
  
The queen moved forward once again.  
  
"Perhaps I am mistaken."  
  
The King's loyal wife took down the opposing queen, who had not seen her in hiding.  
  
"Or you are not.  This area is grey to me.  Mate in three moves."  
  
…  
  
"I resign."  
  
"Good game."  
  
* * *  
  
The Caves of Adventure were Christopher's deepest remaining connection to his origins in Stone.  There were a variety of ways to get there, cave entrances, hidden passages in a the Cottage, a mysterious trap door in the Cottage's cellar.  The only consistent point in them was that they were  _not_  obvious.  They were something for a Blessed Soul to stumble across, the cave entrances hidden by brush, the secret passages hidden in the back of a closet, the trap door only located after finding a strange map folded inside an old book that mentioned it obliquely.  
  
Curious Souls entering the Caves would find mysterious, twisty, dim (but never truly Dark, passages leading to hidden treasures, strange puzzles, and perhaps an illusionary dragon or two.  The Caves combined the fun of exploring, touched with a bit of mystery, leavened with a few learning puzzles to boot.  And like everything in Christopher's realm of authority, it was harmless to the truly innocent.  
  
So why was it, Zadkiel wondered, as Elsa led her on, that she felt such a feeling of apprehension and forboding?  The silent Malakite led her down a passage, through a twisty maze, up over a rope bridge that spanned pitch darkness, and through a cave filled with golden treasures and a sleeping reliever in the guise of a dragon.  Though the journey, the dim cavern walls grew darker still, until Zadkiel found the need to sing up illumination for both herself and Elsa.  
  
"Almost there, Milady," Elsa said softly.  They came to a rock wall at the end of a dead end passage, like any of a hundred that they had already passed.   Elsa spoke a word, and the rock flowed aside like water, revealing another passage.  
  
 _That was a Stone Attunement,_  Zadkiel thought.  But Elsa had only served Christopher since being abandoned by Eli.  If David knew that his old servitor was handing out Stone attunements without asking formal permission, the oldest Malakite would _not_  be pleased.  
  
They entered the passage, and Zadkiel had to pause as the wave of warning and obscuring Songs washed over her.  This was a place that Christopher had gone to considerable lengths to hide from Infernal eyes.   _No, from **all**  eyes.  Heaven does not know of this place either._  Who by the Lightbringer was  _here?_   Eli?  
  
The passage was short, only thirty paces, but it twisty at odd angles that Zadkiel recognized easily from the castles that were part of her Word.   _This was meant to be a place of last ditch defense.  An attacker would have to round corners blind and leave themselves vulnerable for critical moments._ It was a level of tactical sophistication that she didn't…  well, that  _most_  angels didn’t credit Children with.  
  
And it ended in a thick iron door set in the walls of the cave, held fast by double locks fashioned by a Superior's will.  
  
"Elsa," Zadkiel said flatly, suspicion and anger boiling within her, "tell me that Christopher does not hold an angel here against their will."  
  
"Not against her will, Milady Zadkiel," Elsa answered Truthfully, "but by her own request.  There are locks equally as heavy on the inside of this door as well."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"You will."  Elsa drew two keys from her robe, and used them to unlock the door, singing down the warding Songs on the door itself as she worked.  
  
From within, a soft, barely audible voice asked, "Who is there?"  
  
"Elsa of Creation, in Service to Children," Christopher's seneschal answered.  
  
"Zadkiel, Archangel of Protection," Zadkiel answered as well.  
  
"Zadkiel…?  Elsa, where is Christopher?!" the voice asked in confusion and fear.  
  
"Christopher is gone, captured by the forces of Hell, and I have been made Seneschal of his Word until his return," Zadkiel answered, before Elsa could.  "Elsa, through no fault of her own, made me aware of your prescence, though not of your nature. I ask you to open this door so that I might see you, and know what secrets Christopher has haboured even against Heaven's eyes."  
  
"Christopher… in the hands of Hell?"  There was a low, keening wail from within the cell, a cry of despair deeper than the wailings of Christopher's servitors when she'd made this terrible pronouncment to them.  Deeper because, Zadkiel quickly realized, the person with the cell was now truly,  _utterly_  alone.  
  
"Please, whoever you are, open this door!" Zadkiel called out.  
  
The wailing stopped, stifled in a single, heartbreaking sob.  Then the two inner locks clicked back with authoritative thumps, and the door opened inward to darkness.  Zadkiel's eyes adjusted in a moment.  She saw a single, female aspected Mercurian clad  in plain white robes, head bowed.  Her Heart floated in the room's center, which was bare of any manner of furnishings, beyond a single candle in an alcove of the wall.  It was cell, not in the manner of a prison, but of a monasterey, Zadkiel believed, meant to foster contemplation.  Or at least she hoped this was True.  
  
"Who are you, Mercurian, that you are kept in such a terrible manner, cut off from your brethern?"  
  
The Mercurian raised her head, eyes empty of hope.  "I am Reztel, Angel of Parental Love, in service to Children, once in service to Creation."  
  
"And what Superior do you ultimately serve?"  
  
"Andrealphus, Archangel of Love."  
  
* * *  
  
There was something soothing in practicing forms.  The Japanese had an entire martial- art devoted merely to drawing a sword.  Perfection in that one action could take decades to master.  
  
Thrust.  Swing.  Parry.  Thrust.  The ancient blade in his hand sang through the air, an extension of his arm, his Will.  
  
 _I am the Sword.  The Sword is me.  Together there is perfection.  
  
I am the Sword in God's hand.  He guides my Will.  Together there is perfection._  
  
Once he had been Uriel's Sword to wield.  But Uriel was gone to the Higher Heavens, so now he was only wielded by God, and God's hand was invisible to the eye.  
  
The blade  _snicked_  home in its sheath, and he placed it on the rack in the dojo's practice room with a brief obeseance.  
  
"You pray to your sword?" Dominic asked  
  
"Merely aknowledging the skill that went into it's construction," Laurence answered, turning to face him.  Dominic's black cloaked form filled the doorway, his red eyes half-lidded in the darkness of his hood.  "How may I help you, Judgement?"  
  
Dominic slid the wood and paper door shut behind him.  "An impudite approached my Tether at the Supreme Court. He was stopped, and demanded to see the Seneschal, whereapoin he delivered the following."  Judgement removed a brown envelope from his cloak, and passed it along to Laurence.  
  
It contained photographs.  
.  
.  
.  
  
 _Christopher, lying unconcious on a concrete floor.  
  
Christopher, hanging in chains in a cell, naked and bloody.  
  
Christopher, forced to his knees, while Andrealphus stood behind him and…_  
  
Laurence closed his eyes briefly, then forced them open again.  Forced himself to view every picture, committing them to memory.  There were dozens, each displaying a different manner of cruelty and degradation.   And Christopher was in the center of each of them.  
  
"Was the Impudite questioned?" he finally said, slipping the photographs back in the envelope.  Dominic took them back, and they dissapeared once again into the folds of his cloak.  
  
"No," Dominic stated.  "He was followed by a Triad, with orders to apprehend him should he approach an Infernal Tether.  When he became aware of their prescence, he permitted himself to be Soul killed rather than submit to capture and interrogation.  I have, however, received independent confimation that the cell featured in these photographs is indeed in Andrealphus' Brothel."  
  
"So, there is no question as to where Children is, and that his capture was entirely involuntary," Laurence stated.  
  
Dominic's hood angled forward in a nod. "Lust is acting only in concert with Drugs.  Druiel was merely a minor pawn, with Saminga having no direct involvement in the operation.  Further, Christopher was disabled by a new alchemical compound, apparently powerful enough to affect Superiors in Vessel form."  
  
 _"That_ is dangerous, and useful to know.  Jean must be informed."  
  
"I concur."  Dominic paused for a moment.  "Also, there was a note accompaning the photographs."  He handed a piece of paper, thick parchement rather, folded neatly into thirds, with a broken Infernal seal.  
  
Laurence opened it.  The note merely said, in neat, anonymous cursive,  _Return my servant, and you shall have yours._  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"Nor do I," Dominic admitted.  "I have not recently captured or redeemed any Lust servitors, particularly any of high enough rank for Andre to go to such extreme measures to ensure their return.  It makes little sense."  
  
"So nothing has really changed at this point," Laurence said.  
  
Dominic six eyes grew narrow.  "Has it not?  Your complaint against mounting an immediate rescue attempt was that you feared an ambush against Michael or his high-ranking servitors.  That appears to be invalidated."  
  
Laurence turned his head away.  "That does not mean it is nessasary.  If the Infernal servant that Andre so cryptically refered to can be found, then an exchange might be made."  
  
"If they can be found.  I will start a search immediately."  Dominic said nothing further, but the tension between them grew palpable.  "Lord Commander, a frank word, if you would?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
Dominic drew in a breath and began.  "It is a danger, among my Triads, that when faced with a hard choice in making their judgements, they choose the path more difficult, whether or not it is the  _right_  path.  There is a romantic, for lack of a better term, feel to such things. They hypnotize, narrowing one's scope until the path is no longer truly clear.  Every honest error is a sin, every bit of discord a sign of demonic fraternization.  I have had more than one servitor Fall because they sincerely believed they  _must_   Fall, rather than be eventually forgiven for a simple mistake."  
  
Laurence frowned.  "You think I believe it to be  _romantic_ , for Christopher to be subjected to such horrific tortures?"  
  
Judgement sighed deeply.  "I think you believe, on some level, perhaps not conciously, that Christopher  _deserves_  what is happening to him."  
  
Laurence's lips grew thin.  "I shouldn't be surprised.  Michael as much accused me of allowing Christopher to be captured so I needn't explain my reasons for recruiting Druiel."  
  
"I would not go that far.  But I believe you think that your honor would be compromised if Children's recent actions went unpunished."  
  
"Do you believe they _should_  go unpunished?"  
  
"No," Dominic admitted.  "With the evidence I had gathered against him, at minimum Christopher would have had to look forward to severe censure in the Council.  It is possible, if he made another such grievous error, that he might actually be Outcast.  And should he returned safely to us, no matter what his condition, I would still strongly urge that he be brought to trial."  
  
Laurence was silent for a long while.   "And what would you say, to a member of the Host who left one of their own in straights as dire as Christopher is in now?"  
  
"I would pursue them  _personally._ "  
  
"Dominic…" he began, then paused and started over.  "Judgement, you are older than I.  I did not witness the Fall of Lucifer, his murders and betrayal.  And when angels speak of Andrealphus, and Kronos, and Baal, and Beleth, and yes even Lucifer in terms of old friends who have lost their way, not as dire enemies and betrayers of God's will, _I do not understand them._ Nor do I understand the Grigori, and their stubborn desire to hide their sins and be Judged as one.  Nor, in the end, do I understand Creation and Stone's deep hatred of them, and the Hunts that went forward, despite that Judgement and punishment against them had already been carried out."  
  
"Dominic, there are times when I  _do not understand_  why God chose  _me_  to serve as head of the Seraphim Council and Commander of the Host.  But that is the position that I serve in, and I must believe it is because God believed my honor and oaths were needed here.  So I must trust that when I make a decision, it was for the right reasons.  Were I to start questioning every decision I make, where would it stop?  For the sake of the whole of Heaven, I must be resolute in my actions, and trust that God's hand is guiding me in them."  
  
"I understand, Lord Commander," Dominic said, and lowered his head briefly.  "What are your orders?"  
  
"Find the the servitor that Andre seeks, and if you are successful, make arrangements for an exchange of prisoners."  
  
"And if I am not?"  
  
"Then I must make another decision, one that you may be assured I will not take lightly, nor ever forget," Laurence said, running his hand over his eyes.  "And Dominic, has anyone else seen these photographs?"  
  
"No," Dominic said flatly, "though the Triad that was involved, and the seneschal of the tether, are both aware of the envelope that was delivered, of course."  
  
"See that they remain in Judgement's hands, and do not let them be distributed," he said.  "Feelings on this whole affair are running high in the Host, particularly in War and Children.  It is important that everyone maintain a level head, and not let momentary feelings of outrage control their actions."  
  
"As you wish, Lord Commander.  For now, I will begin the search for Andre's servitor."  Dominic bowed briefly and left the practice room.  
  
Laurence returned to the weapons rack, then picked up and unsheathed the sword he had been practicing with earlier.  He sighted along it's length.  The steel was strong, but flexible.  If it struck home, it would bend, transmitting the blow while preserving it's own structure.  But if it was bent too far, even this sword would break, and it was safer not to test it to it's limits.  
  
 _I am the Sword,_  he thought, and began to practice his forms once more.  
  
* * *  
  
"This is not possible," Zadkiel said, staring at Retzel.  "All of Love's servitors either Fell with Andre or are  _dead._ "  
  
"Not all, Lady Zadkiel," Retzel said softly, but with steel in her voice.  "I survive."  
  
"Why were you kept locked away like this?" Zadkiel demanded.  
  
"Even if she stayed every moment in Heaven, if he knew she was here then there would always be a chance that Andre might come up with some kind of temptation that would force her to come to Earth," Elsa explained.  "And if Andre somehow got his claws into her, his last servitor of Love, the tortures she would experience would be to horrible to contemplate."  
  
"I must not allow that to happen," Retzel said, "for I must be prepared to stand at his side when he returns to Heaven."  
  
Zadkiel had been dealing with Seraphim Council meetings, not to mention training of Relievers, too long to allow her jaw to drop at this statement.  But she was never more tempted…  
  
"Return…" she repeated carefully.  "You think there is a chance for Andrealphus to  _redeem_?"  
  
"Others have," Retzel replied, with that same, maddening calm.  
  
"Fallen _servitors_ ," Zadkiel said.  "Not any of Hell's Princes.  And Furfur does  _not_  count, he had barely achieved his Princedom by the time he gave it up for Heaven, and he wasn't one of the original Rebels anyway.  They all Fell because they  _believed_  Lucifer, not because they were created in a place where they never learned any better."  
  
"My Lord Andrealphus  _will_  Redeem," Retzel repeated fiercely, "for he is Love, and he has only forgotten the joy he once brought to the world.  And when he returns, I will return to my place by his side, and all will be as it once was."  
  
"And how do you reconcile what he's probably doing to Lord Christopher right now, with your belief in his redemption?"  
  
Retzel blinked once, then let her head bow down. "I hope that Christopher will find it within his Heart to forgive Andrealphus' actions, taken during his time under Lucifer's Balseraphic lies and tyranny."  
  
"I see," Zadkiel said, and God help her, she  _could_  see the twistings of logic that this poor, mad Mercurian had taken to reach this state of denial.  "Forgive me, Retzel, for intruding upon you, and please forgive Elsa for leading me here.  I ordered her to reveal her oaths to me, and were it her will she would have allowed you to remain in your seclusion."  
  
"I understand," Retzel said.  Then she hesitated a moment and said to Elsa, "You will bring me news, when Christopher returns?"  
  
"Of course," Elsa said, and then stepped aside to let Zadkiel shut the door once more, adding her own seals of Protection upon what Christopher had already put into place.  The locks clicked home, on both sides of the door, and when all was as it was before Zadkiel let out a short sigh of relief.  
  
When they had stepped away, past the defensive switchbacks, far enough to be safely out of Retzel's hearing, Zadkiel shook her head once and stated, "I think I see why she remains locked away, and it has nothing to do with Andre."  
  
"She isn't  _mad,_  Milady," Elsa protested.  "I mean, not like Gabriel's sort of madness.  Retzel is just a bit, um,  _off_."  
  
Zadkiel ignored this outrageous bit of understatement.  "Wouldn't it have been simpler, and kinder, just to place her memories of Andre in a memory pearl rather than resort to  _that_?"  
  
"As I understand it, from what Eli told me, she wouldn't hear of it," Elsa explained.  "I mean, yes, potentially he could have, and then reworked her appearance so that no one recognized her, but she refused.  From the time of the Fall, she has maintained her belief in Andre's eventual redemption.  I mean, she's kept faithful to him, faithful to his original self.  I think it's rather touching."  
  
And how did Elsa reconcile Retzel's faithfulness, with demonstrated unfaithfulness of a certain absent Archangel that she had once served, Zadkiel had to wonder.  
  
"How long have you been part of this… concealment scheme?" she asked.  
  
"I was brought into it ten years before Eli abandoned Heaven," Elsa said.  "When he told me of Retzel, he explained that he always had a single Malakite sworn to the secret, should anything happen to him."  
  
"What happened to your predecessor?"  
  
"Eli said my predecessor had gotten caught at a Tether under attack by The War.  Rather than risk capture, and perhaps interrogation, he destroyed himself."  
  
"I see," Zadkiel said.  "A great responsibility to be given, to a Malakite fledged only forty years."  
  
"I'd just earned my Word," Elsa said, her face drooping.  "I think Eli wanted someone young, whom he thought wouldn't argue with him that much."  
  
"What happened when Eli Outcasted himself?" Zadkiel asked.  "I mean… why  _Christopher_?  He wasn't even an Archangel yet!"  
  
"Christopher was on the verge of being accepted as an Archangel, Milady," Elsa said.  "It was obvious to everyone.  And he took his responsibility quite seriously.  I don't think even David suspected when he spirited Retzel into the Caverns.  I was ordered to follow Christopher discreetly, and ask to be placed into his service when the time came for Creation's servitors to be given new homes.  And so it was done."  
  
Zadkiel nodded gravely.  It was a plausible scenario, though it implied that Eli might have been boosting Christopher's power base behind the scenes, prior to Children's ascension to archangelic status.  Then a thought occurred to her that brought a chill to her bones.  
  
"Do you think that Christopher, if he is not rescued from Andrealphus' clutches, will tell him of Retzel?" she asked Elsa.  
  
"Christopher would never speak of it, and that is Truth, Milady," Elsa said, her face grave.  "I was there when he swore to protect her.  He'll die first"  
  
 _I wish I had your confidence in him_  Zadkiel though enviously.  "One last question.  Does  _anyone_ else in Christopher's service know of Retzel, or even  _suspect_  of her existence?"  
  
"No one," Elsa said confidently.  "There might have been a few of his higher Wordbound that thought he might have hiding something in the Caverns, true, but there is simply no way they could know it was Retzel.  And none would ever speak of it to Heaven's enemies."  
  
Zadkiel paused.  They stood at the entrance of the last, or first, depending on your point of view, of the fierce, illusionary gaurdians that Christopher had set into place to discorage wanderers from approaching this section of the Caverns of Adventure.  The illusion was of a dragon, ancient, fierce, and protective of its treasure.  
  
"Could one of those suspecting Wordbound have been Druiel?"  
  
Elsa's look of horrified dismay was answer enough.


	2. Chapter 2

_Interlude_  
  
“I was expecting you.”  
  
“I shouldn’t have come, not now.”  
  
“You needed to come here, my love.  Sit, relax.  Regain your center.”  
  
“I know how to regain my center.”  
  
“Yes, but shaking Laurence until his feathers fall out isn’t the best method.”  
  
“Is it that obvious?”  
  
“Well, that and I doubt there isn’t a reliever in Heaven who hasn’t heard about your little chat with him by now.”  
  
“It’s  _wrong._   God must  _know_  it’s wrong, so why is it happening?”  
  
“Because the world is a flawed place since Lucifer lost his way, and we are also flawed, even those who stayed in Heaven.”  
  
“I can’t help but think I should have done something different.  Gotten closer to the kid.  If I had done something diffferent, been there to listen to him, maybe I could have been there to stop him before he stumbled into Andre’s trap.”  
  
“Your Word and his aren’t compatible, my love.  Even if you had tried, niether of you would have been comfortable.”  
  
“Not compatible.  Oh, you always were good at putting things gently.  No, we sure as Hell aren’t compatible, are we?”  
  
“Not your fault.”  
  
“What happened, happened on  _my_  watch.  I turned a blind eye, when I should have been cracking heads.  But I was so _certain_ that they wouldn’t go against Heaven in such a way…”  
  
“God is omnipotent, the rest of us just have to stumble along.”  
  
“When they convicted me of Pride, they were right.  Dominic was right.”  
  
“What happened afterward wasn’t your fault either.”  
  
“No, but it was a result we should have seen coming.  The revelation of the Hunts were one of the things that started Christopher doubting himself.”  
  
“And if we get him back, will you tell him then, all the Truths that he should have known before?”  
  
“Yes.  He has the right to know  _Heaven_   has the right to know.  We’ve been all hiding in the dark for too long.”  
  
.  
.  
.  
“You think I’m wrong?”  
  
“No, I was thinking… that I should have spoken to him before as well.  But I didn’t.”  
  
“As you said, sometimes we just have to stumble along.”  
  
* * *  
  
He could feel…  it was like bits himself were floating away.  The Forces that made him were dissapating, and he lacked the Will to recall them.  _Not long now…_  
  
He hung from a frame that Andre had brought into his cell, bound at wrist and ankle and stretched wide, all the more helpless a target for the prince’s amusement.  It hurt, but it was just an addition to the myriad of hurts he already felt.  What was one more?  
  
“And how are you feeling, little Christopher?” Andre crooned, cupping Christopher’s chin in his hand, to raise the archangel’s head up so he could look into the impudite’s eyes.  
  
“I’ve been… better,” Christopher rasped.  
  
“So I see,” Andre noted.  “You picked up a few extra bruises since we spoke last.  Playing with the guards, were we?”  
  
Christopher didn’t answer, not trusting himself to speak a lie, even in this place.  But what was stopping him from speaking Truth? he wondered.  Druiel certainly would not appreciate his discretion.  
  
Andre’s grip on Christopher’s chin tightened, and he twisted it just a bit, apparently to remind the cherub just how easy it would be to dislocate his jaw.  “I asked you a question.”  
  
“Go… self-pleasure yourself,” Christopher replied.  
  
Andre began to laugh, letting go of Christopher.  He laughed long and hard, and it was an effort for him to regain his breath.  “’Self-pleasure…?’” he hooted, and had to stop to breathe again.  “You can’t even say the  _word?_ ”  
  
Christopher felt his cheeks burn.  “I simply… choose not to.”  
  
“The word is  _fuck_.  You needed to say  _go fuck yourself, Andre._   Not that you needed to bother.  I’ve got no shortage of willing partners, thank you, though I don’t know if the same could be said of you.”  
  
“Not your business.”  
  
“If it’s got the f-word in it, then it’s  _always_  my business.  Heh, now you’ve got me doing it.” He paused to laugh at his own joke.  “F-word…”  
  
There was a soft knock at the door to Christopher’s cell.  A wave of Andre’s hand and the door unlocked, admitting Druiel.  
  
“You requested my presence, Beautiful Lord?” Druiel asked carefully.  
  
“Yeeess,” Andre turned to Druiel and smiled at him.  “I’d forgotten to thank you for leading Christopher in the trap Fluerity and I arranged.  It was prescient of you to realize that he might still harbor hope that you’d redeem.”  He reached out and stroked the balseraph’s hair.  Christopher winced, recalling how many times he done the same thing, to express his pleasure at Druiel’s good and concientious nature.  
  
“It was an honor to serve you, Beautiful Lord.”  Druiel bowed his head, then suddenly jerked it back as Andre’s claws gripped the balseraph’s hair in a painful clench.  
  
“If it’s such an _honor_ , why did you presume to play with  _my toys?_ ” Andre screamed, throwing Druiel against the stone wall of the cell.  Before the young demon could dodge out of his way, Andre had grabbed him again, this time by the neck.  “Nobody  _ever_  plays with  _my_  toys without  _my permission!_ ”  The walls of the cell were close, and the Demon Prince of Lust slammed Druiel from side-to-side for emphasis as he spoke.  
  
Druiel landed in a corner of the cell as Andre finally loosed his grip.  “I’m sorry, Beautiful Lord. I thought… I thought since you were torturing him anyway…”  
  
“I wasn’t  _torturing_  him, I was  _playing_  with him.”  Druiel ducked into a ball as Andre’s booted foot kicked him in the side.  “He’s no  _good_  to me if he’s so far gone Heaven won’t  _bargain_  for him!”  
  
 _Andre wishes me to live?_ Christopher thought, the first ray of hope entering his soul since he was captured.  Andre wanted to trade him for something.  But what would Heaven have that Andre would go to such measures to acquire it?  
  
Then he realized just what it was, and prayed that his Forces would decay all the faster…  
  
* * *  
  
“We have to tell Laurence about this,” Zadkiel said, when they had returned to Christopher’s office in the Cottage.  
  
“Milady, we  _can’t_ ,” Elsa protested.  “I swore an  _oath_  to hide Retzel’s prescence.”  
  
“An oath that is no longer in force,” Zadkiel reminded her.  “And this is bigger than your duty to Christopher, or Retzel’s need for anonimity.  Hell holds an Archangel in it’s clutches.  If Heaven is to respond properly, if we are to get Laurence to respond  _at all_ , then the Sword must know all the facts at hand.”  
  
“Wouldn’t it be better, perhaps, to tell Novalis first?” Elsa said.  “I mean she is a fellow Cherub.”  
  
“Not Novalis, she isn’t exactly on Laurence’s list of favored angels,” Zadkiel said.  “On the other hand, an ally, or at least someone with Christopher’s interests in mind, wouldn’t be amiss.”  She sang briefly, concentrating on the archangel she wished to speak to.  The affirmitive reply came in less than a moment.  
  
A song of motion brought them both to the edge of Michael’s realm, where the Archangel of War met them.  Uncharacteristically, he was dressed in full armor.   _Spoiling for a fight, even if Laurence has banned him from acting out his desires,_  Zadkiel quickly concluded.  
  
“Zadkiel, how goes Children?” he greeted, holding out one hand while keeping the other resting on the grip of his axe.  
  
“Not well,” she admitted.  She felt her metaphorical bones slide underneath his grip, not an intentional cruelty, but an expression of his contained frustrations.  “Most of his servitors are in shock.  I imagine the ones who are not are plotting to rush Shal-Mari themselves, hoping to rescue their lord.  I can’t say I blame them.”  She rescued her hand and discreetly massaged it behind her back.  
  
“Me niether,” Michael admitted.  “Try to keep them from haring away though.  When the word comes down, and it damned well  _better_  come down, I don’t want anyone rushing off half-cocked.”  
  
Zadkiel glanced at Elsa, whose pale face could have been set in Stone.  Michael, bless him, had not made any comment about her presence, waiting for Zadkiel to offer explanations.  “A complication…  _may have_  an effect on Laurence’s current decision.”  As quickly as possible, she detailed the discovery of Retzel in the Caverns of Adventure to the Archangel of War.  Michael listened, his face first expressing shock at the deception, then gradually delight.  
  
“ _Damn,_ I didn’t think the little snot had it in him,” he said, laughing.  “Christopher actually keep one of Andre’s pre-Fall servitors hidden from  _everybody?_   Even before he was an archangel?”  
  
Elsa’s mouth was turning down into a frown, Zadkiel saw, but she didn’t dare to speak out in Christopher’s defense in front of the First Seraph.  “Underestimating Christopher seems to be a common error in Heaven.  If we’re lucky, the same goes for Hell,” she said on the Malakite’s behalf.  
  
Michael sobered up, amusement still lighting his eyes slightly, but a mask of business on his face.  “So why are you bringing this information to me, and how do you figure it’s relevant to his current situation?  Andre has him, but unless he  _knows_ about…”  War’s face fell.  “Aw,  _crap!_ ”  
  
“Even if Druiel didn’t know for certain, he would have enough information that Andre might be able to infer something,” Zadkiel said.  
  
“It’s still a big leap from ‘Chris has a secret’ to ‘My last Servitor of Love still lives,’” Michael said, shaking his head.  
  
“Not so large a leap as one might think,” came a voice from the edge of the glade.  The three of them turned in surprise, to face Dominic, who glided in silently to meet them.  “If we are to both rescue Christopher and ensure Retzel’s continued survival, I believe that speed would be prudent.”  
  
* * *  
  
 _Interlude_  
  
“Prince of the Dead, I have returned.”  
  
“Great, great, Dreary”  
  
“’Druiel,’ Prince of the Dead.”  
  
“Whatever, I gotta show you th--, what in  _Perdition_  happened to you?”  
  
“I displeased Prince Andrealphus, Prince of the Dead.  He… struck me… several times.”  
  
“Well did ya strike him  _back_?”  
  
“No, Prince of the Dead.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“I’m just a Wordbound, and he is a Prince, milord.”  
  
“Wimp.  Anyway, check this out.  See how this kid twitches when you put a stick through him?”  
  
 _AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!_  
  
“Er, yes, Milord.”  
  
“Nifty, huh?”  
  
“Um, yes, Milord.”  
  
 _AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!_  
  
“You still here?”  
  
“Yes, Milord.”  
  
“You got something to do?”  
  
“I was awaiting further orders, Prince of the Dead.”  
  
“Orders?  Your orders are to kill shit.   _Lightbringer_ , do I have to tell you to do  _everything_?”  
  
“No, Prince of the Dead.”  
  
“Well then get out of here.  I’ve got more sticks to poke.”  
  
“Yes, Prince of the Dead.”  
  
 _AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!_!  
  
* * *  
  
“Lurking in the bushes?  I thought you left that sort of thing to your servitors, Dominic,” Michael said, bristling in annoyance as he stepped between Judgement and where Zadkiel and Elsa stood.  
  
“I was not lurking, Michael,” Dominic insisted, “I’d only arrived a moment ago, but your conversation confirms what I’d already suspected.”  
  
“Don’t tell me you already knew about Retzel.”  
  
“Specifically?  No.  But I too was aware that Christopher was hiding something of extraordinary importance in the Caverns, and that Elsa was it’s designated guardian.  Logically it follows that it was the same something that Eli had assigned to her care some sixty years ago.”  
  
“You knew this and you said nothing?” the Cherub of Protection said.  Beside Zadkiel, Elsa gulped.    
  
Dominic’s hood dipped briefly in aknowledgement of this Truth.  “I am not Litheroy.  My purpose is to judge the rightness of the Host’s actions, not announce them to all of Heaven and perhaps all of Hell.  So long as Christopher did not do anything that warranted my attention, I thought it more prudent to let the matter stand.”  
  
“And who knows, perhaps Eli would want to chat with Chris to check up on how his little lost Mercurian was doing,” Michael noted acidly.  
  
“Truth, though I did not know it was Andrealphus’ last servitor that they held,” Dominic admitted.  “But returning to the matter at hand, there is information that you should be made aware of. Lust has chosen to provide evidence that proves that Christopher is indeed in their clutches, and being vilely tortured by Andre.”  
  
Michael drew his axe.  “So why are we still  _sitting here?_ ”  
  
Dominic raised a black gloved hand in forebearance.  “Andre also included a message.  ‘Return my servant, and you shall have yours.’  I did not understand the meaning of this until I thought to connect it to Christopher’s secret in the caverns, and do a search in the Archives for a list of Love’s servitors, showing which had definitely Fallen, and which had been destroyed.”  
  
“No.   _No!_ ” Elsa finally spoke, mantlling her black wings in anger.  “Retzel can not be used as a  _bargaining chip_ , Lord Dominic!  How are we to call ourselves angels, if we send one of our own, who has suffered in silence for so terribly long, to the Fate that she managed to avoid for twenty thousand years?”  
  
“I agree,” Zadkiel added.  “Christopher would not wish to be freed at the price of sacrificing an innocent angel, particularly one he is almost certainly Attuned to.”  
  
Dominic shook his head.  “I do not imagine War would wish to be part of such a dark bargain.”  
  
“You imagine correctly,” Michael said.  “So we’re left with one choice.  We  _have_  to confront Laurence with Retzel’s existence.  Allowing her to be given over to Andre for Christopher’s life is something that is  _so_  dishonorable that not even that moron of a  Malakite would agree to it.  Once we lay all the facts on the table, he’ll have to go along with a rescue plan.”  
  
“I seriously doubt that he would agree to rescue attempt, though to his credit he would not sacrifice Retzel either,” Dominic said.  “He has managed to convince himself, however False his assumptions might be, that Christopher is a liability to the Host that must be exorcised.  And the simpliest method for that is allow him to become a martyr to Heaven’s cause.”  
  
Through sheer force of Will, Zadkiel managed to control her emotions so that mere anger was visible on her face, rather than the raging fury that she felt in her Heart.  “How is this  _possible_ , Dominic?  Laurence is the Commander of the Host, sworn to battling Hell’s armies.  Christopher is the Archangel of _Children_ , for the Love of our merciful God.  Whatever Christopher’s mistakes, and yes, he has made many mistakes since Druiel Fell,  _how_  could Laurence turn his back on one of the Host’s own, particularly one it’s most  _innocent_?”  
  
To her surprise, it was Michael who answered.  His face was grave, and the anger he’d shown earlier had dissapeared, replaced by sorrow.  “It isn’t Christopher himself that Laurence fears is the true weakness to Heaven,” he said, “its his Word.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” Elsa said, clutching her oath chains in confusion.  
  
Dominic let out a deep, troubled sigh, then shared a brief glance with Michael.  Evidentially coming to some sort of mutual, silent agreement, the Archangel of War motioned for the Most Just to proceed.  
  
“Allow me to tell you, Zadkiel of Protection, and Elsa of Creation, about the crimes of the  _first_  Archangel of Children,” he began.  
  
* * *  
  
The door clanged shut after Andre permitted Druiel to crawl out.  It was just Christopher and the demon prince of Lust, alone.  And Lust was smiling.  
  
 _For the sake of Retzel, I must be strong.  What more can he do to me, that he has not already done?_  
  
“So tell me, Chrissie, how  _is_  my little servitor doing in her little cell?” Andrealphus asked, crooning out his words.  “Do you visit her in the dark of the night, when pretty Laurence and dreadful Dominic aren’t watching?  Do you give her comfort?  Do you touch her in all those special places she has, as I used to do?”  
  
Christopher remained silent.   _I must be strong._   But he had lost so much of himself already.  
  
Andre’s fingers probed, and Christopher bit through his lip to remain silent.  “Don’t be  _difficult,_  Chrissie,” he said, “I know you have her.  Druiel told me all about how you took in Eli’s old servitor, how you and she travel deep into the Caverns of Adventure, to the secret place that only the two of you know how to reach.  I know she’s there.  She’s my last you see, the last servitor I had, when I served a lie.  I can feel her still, a little itch in my Heart that  _won’t_  go away.”  His fingers touched Christopher again, poking and prodding with more force.  “She will come back to me, either as a grateful Imp, or a Mercurian in  _chains_ , and either way I  _will_  have her.”  
  
Christopher grunted, holding back the cry that threatened to come out, and Andrealphus just laughed.  “Cherubs are so  _easy_  to manipulate.  You open your Hearts to your attuned, and always act so confused when they die in loneliness and pain.  You know where she is. You know where she is right now. You know what she’s thinking, whether she fears for you or is just happy that you’re  _finally_  leaving her alone for a while.  Because you know she doesn’t really care for  _you_.  She’s a Mercurian, it’s humanity that she loves best, not you.”  
  
“I…  _know… that…_ ” Christopher said through gritted teeth, then wished he’d bitten his tongue as well as his lips.  
  
“Ah, you  _do_  truly have her.  Thank you, Chrissie.  See how much easier things would have gone for you if you’d just said that in the first place?”  
  
“F- f-  _fuck_  you.”  
  
Andrealphus laughed.  “You’re _learning,_  Chrissie!  See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”  
  
The probing, violating fingers departed, and Andrealphus was silent for a moment, for just enough time to allow Christopher to realize the probable consequences of his indescretion.   _Merciful God, why did you not let me die before I betrayed her?_  
  
“You gave me something very valuable just now, Christopher,” Andrealphus said softly.  “Now I’ll give you something in return.”  
  
“I… want…   _nothing…_  from… you…”  
  
“Oh, you’ll want to hear this, Christopher.  It’s about Heaven you see.  Heaven and all the hypocrisy in those who rule it.  God’s gone to higher ground, and left the Earth to Hell and those  _fools_  who look down upon us.  And this story is about your Word, and how frightening Heaven really thinks it is.”  
  
“Can’t… be  _afraid_ … of  _Children._ ”  
  
Andrealphus conjured up a chair and sat down beside Christopher, looking for all the world as if he just wanted to relzax before launching into a pleasing tale.  “Oh, no one is afraid of you, Christopher.  But your  _Word_ , that’s a different thing now.  Because no one really trusts it, not after what the  _first_  archangel who held it did.”  
  
 _He lies, he lies, he wishes me to reveal more of Retzel, he lies…_   “There has… been no other… who ever held… my Word… “  
  
Andrealphus patted Christopher’s head, then pressed his fingers to Children’s lips.  When he took his hand away, a steel brank filled Christopher’s mouth, tasting of rust and blood.  “Why don’t you just listen for a while?” the prince advised.  
  
“Once upon a time, when the world was younger, and the Fall was still a searing pain in the Host’s mind, there were the Grigori, the Giants, the ones closer to Humanity than even the Mercurians.  And like the Mercurians they  _loved_  the humans.  Loved them so much that they could not bear to seperated from them.  So when their bastard get, the Nephalim, rose out of their twisted wombs and wreaked havoc, the entire Choir was banished and made Outcast.  Their names were erased from the books, even the name of Choir was not mentioned, for fear of provoking Judgement’s wrath.  And those angels that had served the Grigori archangels found themselves under great suspicion, unless they agreed to have their very memories of their time with their superiors removed from their minds.  And do you know who those archangels were, Christopher?”  
  
 _There was Song,_  Christopher thought.  And… others… but he could not think of their names.  Surely there had to have been others.  
  
Andre began to sing names, and Song was among them, but there was also…  _Children?  
  
He lies, he lies, he  **lies**!_  
  
* * *  
  
“The first Archangel of Children was a  _Grigori?_ ” Zadkiel exclaimed, even as the dreadful knell of  _TRUTH, TRUTH, TRUTH,_  rang in her head.  
  
“Yes,” Dominic confirmed.  “It’s obvious in retrospect, should anyone choose to think about it.  Were the Grigori not made by God to be able to mate with Humanity, to  _produce_ children of angelic and human blood?  For a Grigori to hold the Word was only logical.  As it was equally logical for her to protect the Grigori’s children, those both beautiful and those twisted.”  
  
“The Nephalim,” Zadkiel guessed, “she tried to hide the Nephalim, when they first began to appear.”  
  
Judgement nodded. “Not merely tried, but succeeded, for so long that the Host only became aware of the problem just prior to Humanity almost being overwhelmed by them.  It was a closer run thing that anyone cares to admit, even among Seraphim.”  
  
“But… but, what happened to her?” Elsa asked.  “If Christopher holds her Word, then she had to have been…”  The Malakite blanched at the implications.  
  
“We  _murdered_  her,” Michael said bluntly.  “The Hunts began much,  _much_  earlier than most of the Host believes.   After the Grigori were Outcast, after they were  _already_  punished, Wordbound servitors of Creation and Stone hunted her down, believing that she was at the center of the Grigori’s primary sin.  Hunted her down and killed her.”  
  
 _TRUTH, TRUTH, **TRUTH.**_  
  
Zadkiel looked to Michael, to Dominic, then back to Michael, fighting the overwhelming desire to  _deny_  that what they said.  “And you allowed this to go unpunished?” she asked.  “Michael, you were  _Commander of the Host_ , and you let angel hunt angel?”  
  
“I didn’t _let…_ ” he began, then stopped himself and began again.  “But niether did I encourage the Host to do anything to stop it.”  
  
“You did what you believed nessasary for the unity of the Host,” Dominic intervened.  
  
“Unity of the Host?” Zadkiel asked bitterly.  “As Lucifer encouraged unity by murdering the Metatron?”  
  
“We were at  _war_ ,” Michael protested, “ _open war_  with the forces of Lucifer, not this…  _dentete_ … that we follow now.  And there was a fear, a very  _real_  fear, that somehow the Lightbringer would spark a second Rebellion, one that might mean all of Heaven falling to the Horde.  And then the Grigori chose to be Outcast as one, and we feared that they might reach some accomidation with Lucifer, and become his agents on the Earth, or worse, chose to Fall as one, and provide him with the forces he needed to overwhelm us.”  
  
“And so, when the Archangel of Children was murdered, we let it serve as an example to the remainder of the Grigori, to let them know that we would not tolerate any futher violations of Heavenly law from their ranks, and that we were ready to carry out the most terrible of punishments if we saw the need,” Dominic finished.  “I  _judged_ that it was for the greater good, and did not pursue those who commited the deed.”  
  
“How is it that no one knows of this?” Elsa asked.  “Surely someone remembers.”  
  
“We were very… liberal… with the use of memory pearls, during the time of the Outcasting,” Dominic explained, “and those below the rank of Superior who do retain their memories of that time have been… discouraged from speaking.”  
  
“And so when Christopher was granted the Word of Children, and was recognized as an Archangel, you saw no need to inform him of the Host’s past actions?” Zadkiel asked.  
  
Dominic nodded slowly.  “What good would it have done?  He was new to his Word, and unaware of the political taint attached to it.  At the time, certain members of the Seraphim Council thought that this was a chance to build anew, to repair the grave damage to the Host’s integrity that the murder of the first Archangel of Children had caused.  Telling Christopher of it would not bring his predecessor back to us, and would have caused him much internal doubt.”  
  
“And besides, he was only a little Cherub, with a minor Word, anyway,” Elsa muttered.  To Zadkiel’s surprise, this caused Michael to wince, and lower his head.  
  
“Was Lord Laurence in the faction that thought it right to grant the Word again?” she asked.  
  
“No,” Michael answered, “he thought the Word had too much taint attached, and should only be granted again through a direct intervention by God.  He feared that assigning it to a Cherub might mean that Cherub would regard protection of his charges to be more important than preparing for the final conflict with the forces of Hell.”  
  
“Forgive me for this, Elsa, but I shudder to think what a Malakite would consider proper maintenence of Christopher’s Word,” Zadkiel said acidly.  
  
“If we are to achieve a proper resolution to this situation, we should make certain that we retrieve Christopher intact then,” Dominic concluded.  
  
“How, how,  **how?!** ” Zadkiel demanded.  “I will not compound the sins that have been committed against Christopher and against his Word by handing over Retzel in chains to Andrealphus.  It is  _wrong_ , it is  _wrong_ , it is  _ **wrong,**_   and if I did so it is a violation of both my Word and his!”  
  
“Have you thought to ask her opinion on the matter?” Dominic asked softly.  
  
* * *  
  
 _High, high on the Range./Cuz Mescaline will drive ya insane,_  Fluerity sang to himself as he stepped over the writhing bodies of demons and souls on the floor of the Brothel.   _Where the brownies are hash./And we take only cash./Cuz your credit goes straight down the drain._   He waved at a Balseraph guarding the entrance to the back rooms, where Andre’s offices were located, and asked, “Where’s your boss, demon?”  
  
“The Beautiful Prince is downstairs, Lord Fluerity,” he answered.  “Do you wish to be escorted to him?”  
  
“I think I know where he is,” the Prince of Drugs answered.  No doubt Andre was busy testing to see how weak Christopher really was.  Of course Fluerity had already proved the cherub’s unworthiness to his own satisfaction, after the little idiot had fallen to Druiel’s transparent ploy and his own alchemical knockout pill.  
  
He made his way downstairs, listening to the tortured screaming of souls in Andrealphus’ dungeon with satisfaction.  The masochists who paid for the priviledge of coming down there never quite seemed to understand that they would always get more than they bargained for.  The weaker ones just kept coming back for it though.  
  
A growl at the end of the hall attracted his attention, coming from the cell door that was guarded by a pair of Calabim.  What the Hell was Andre doing to the little weakling now?  
  
“Ah, Fluerity, I was hoping you’d come by soon,” Andre greeted when he entered the cell.  “I’ve been having a little chat with Christopher about his predecessor.  I’m afraid he hasn’t been taking it well.”  
  
The winged bear, with vestigial horns, and a scaly, broken tail, let out a howl of grief and leaped for Andre’s throat, only to be pulled short by the collar around it’s neck.


	3. Chapter 3

_Another full Council session,_  Laurence observed, from his seat at the head of the chamber.  Even if the crisis in Children was not enough reason for all Superiors to be in attendance, the sheer novelty of the session being called jointly by Michael and Dominic would have attracted their complete attention.   _Myself included._  
  
He rapped his gavel, and the chamber quieted. Laurence then rose to his feet and addressed then.  “Lord Michael, Lord Dominic, What brings you to call the Council together at this time.  Do either of you have news concerning our brother, Christopher?”  
  
Dominic rose to answer.  “Yes, Lord Commander.  We have discovered the servitor whom Andrealphus seeks, in exchange for Lord Christopher.”  
  
“Is that possible?” Laurence asked in surprise.  “Is it a recently redeemed Lust servitor?”  
  
“No, Lord Commander.  Nor a demon in confined by us.”  Dominic motioned towards the front of the Council chamber, where the door opened to reveal Zadkiel, and a smaller figure in an enveloping cloak.  
  
“Who then?  Identify yourself, angel,” Laurence commanded.  
  
The figure threw her cloak back, revealing a Mercurian with tired, sad eyes.  “I am Retzel,” she said, “Mercurian Angel of Parental Love, Servitor of Andrealphus, Mercurian Archangel of Love.”  
  
_Servitor of **who?**_  Laurence thought in disbelief, as the Seraphim Council suddenly erupted in babble.  He banged his gavel twice to restore order, and the chamber settled down reluctantly.  “You are mistaken, Retzel,” he said.  “You can not serve Love.  Andrealphus has Fallen, and his old servitors either have Fallen with him or are dead.  Whom do you truly serve?”   _How can you serve, how can you even **be**  here?_  
  
“After Andrealphus’ Fall, I was given to Eli, who hid me away when My Lord, in his madness, began to hunt down his old servitors,” Retzel replied.  “When Eli chose to Outcast himself, I was then given to Christopher.  But I have never sworn myself to them, nor accepted their Attunements.  I serve Love, even when Andrealphus does not.”  
  
Laurence stood in shock, attempting to digest these revelations, and to contain his anger.   _Hidden for so long.  She was given to Christopher, **before**  he was an archangel? Eli and Christopher must both answer for this deception._  
  
“And now, with the aid of Christopher’s Fallen servitor, Druiel, Andre now knows that Retzel survives,” Zadkiel concluded.  “Now Andre wants Retzel in exchange for Christopher.”  
  
“That is not an acceptable solution, Zadkiel,” Laurence said.  “We will not make  _deals_  with the Horde, especially not a bargain that trades one angel for another.”  
  
“Then what  _is_  an acceptable solution, Laurence?” Michael said sharply.  “We are severely short on options at this point.”  
  
Laurence’s voice dropped to a growl.  “You  _know_  that there are sometimes no acceptable solutions.”  
  
“All that I know, Laurence, is that sometimes there are solutions that we’d rather not face,” Michael answered, in the same low tone.  “But they are there, and they must be considered.  Hiding them away in the dark does no one any good.”  
  
“Are you seriously asking me to authorize handing an angel to the Horde against her will?”  
  
“Not…  not against my will, Lord… Lord Commander,” Retzel said softly.  “I know, in my mind, if not my Heart, that Andrealphus has Fallen.  I know what will face me should I turn myself over to his hands.  But if it will save Christopher, who has protected me against him, then yes, I will trade my freedom for Christopher’s life.”  
  
“Retzel,” Laurence said as gently as he could manage, “you are not in your right mind.”  
  
“Do you deny the Truth of her words, Laurence?” Dominic asked, with deceptive calm.  
  
“She speaks Truth,” Laurence admitted, “but that does not mean it is a  _wise_  Truth.”  
  
“Don’t even try to start a debate about  _wisdom,_  Laurence,” Michael snarled.  “You dug this hole for yourself when you refused my request for a raid on Shal-Mari.  Retzel is offering to do the most Selfless act I can imagine, for the sake of a Superior who has sheltered her for a mere fifty years.  It’s  _her_  choice.”  
  
All eyes in the Seraphim Council were centered upon him.   _I am Lord Commander of the Host, assigned here by God Himself.  I dare not falter._ “And if I should order her to remain in Heaven?”  
  
“Then an Archangel will die by your actions, Lord Laurence, rather than perhaps be saved by another’s,” Dominic said, his voice devoid of any emotion.  “And your actions will be Judged, as Michael’s were so long ago.”  
  
“Your Word is synonimous with Honor, Laurence,” Michael said, the anger in voice fading.  “You are a Malakite, whose existence is defined by Oaths of Honor.  Look into yourself, Laurence, and tell me what honor there is, in letting a comrade be destroyed by his enemies, when you could have prevented it..  I pissed my honor away when I was called Commander, and did not speak for moderation when the Host was in a fury.  You still have time to step back onto the right path.”  
  
“Every action I take, must be for the good of the whole, Michael,” Laurence said, the chains of honor that bound him suddenly growing fearfully heavy.  
  
“Then place the matter to a vote then,” Dominic advised.  “Should the whole agree that Retzel be permitted to sacrifice herself, for the sake of an Archangel we know to be flawed, who’s Word we know to be tainted with blood and dishonor, then perhaps we should let the error be made.  For Christopher will at least be within Judgement’s reach, should I wish to bring him to trial.”  
  
“You suggest a majority vote?” Laurence asked.  
  
Michael began to nod in a agreement, but he froze in shock as Dominic said, “No.  Full agreement.”  
  
“ _Full?_ ” Michael shouted.  
  
“Yes,” Dominic said firmly.  “We must all agree to this course.  Otherwise Christopher and his Word will remain tainted, even if he is found innocent in a trial.  If only one Superior distrusts him, then that one will be the seed that will crack and destroy the Word of Children, whether or not that is what he intends, for only through complete trust and love will Cristopher properly heal, and take his place again among his peers.”  
  
“Agreed then,” Laurence said, and pretended not to hear as Michael spewed a series of half-whispered invective into Dominic’s ear.  He rapped his gravel sharply again, and stood to face the Council.  “I bring this matter before the assembled whole of the Seraphim Council: Should Retzel, Mercurian Angel of Parental Love, in service too… Andrealphus, be permitted to exchange herself for Christopher, Cherub Archangel of Children’s freedom?”  Then for no reason he could have articulated, he added, “Let the roll be called in reverse order.”  
  
He began to call out the names.  
  
“Zadkiel?”  
  
“Yea.”  Predictably.  
  
“Yves?”  
  
“Abstain,” came the answer from the eldest of them, his smile beautific, his actions unknowable.  The Council chamber rumbled a moment in surprise, but Laurence rapped the gravel and said, “An abstention is not a negative vote, that is tradition.  We will continue.  Novalis?”  
  
“Yea.”  
  
“Michael?”  
  
“Yea.”  
  
“Marc?”  
  
“Yea.”  
  
“Litheroy?”  
  
“Yea.”  
  
Laurence cleared his throat.  “I defer my vote, until the rest have been counted.”  The chamber rumbled in discontent, but he continued.  
  
“Khalid?”  
  
“Yea, by the grace of God.”  
  
“Jordi?”  
  
“Yea.”  
  
“Jean?”  
  
“Abstain,” the Archangel of Lightning said.  “I do not have enough data on this situation to reach an acceptable conclusion at this time.”  
  
“Very well.  Janus?”  
  
“Yea, man.”  
  
“Gabriel?”  He paused, looking up at where the mad Archangel of Fire spun near the Chamber’s ceiling.  “Gabriel, how do you vote?”  
  
“  _The Whore will die, and only a dark shadow will remain of the Child.”_  
  
“I… think… that might be accepted as an abstension,” Dominic advised.  
  
Laurence nodded in agreement.  “Very well.  Eli is absent of course.  Dominic?”  
  
“Yea.”  
  
“David?”  
  
The Malakite Archangel of Stone, and Christopher’s creator, stood up slowly, ponderously, from his chair.  “I vote Nay.”  
  
“ _Goddamn you,_  David!” Michael shouted, his voice rising about the Council’s din.  David stood silent and unmoved as Retzel began to weep, while Michael and Zadkiel accused Stone of all manner of perfidy.    
  
It took over a minute for him to restore order again, the Council settling into a stunned, angry silence.  Laurence cleared his throat and asked, “Lord David, for the benefit of those who voted, and who might have wished to have voted in Christopher’s favor, might we persuade you to explain your action to them?”  
  
“Children is a flawed Word,” David said, his voice low and rumbling with utter conviction.  “We knew this from the start, and yet we allowed him to take it, and then build upon it.  I made a mistake when I stayed silent during his confirmation as an Archangel.  Shall we permit him to return to us, flawed, broken, and possibly dissonant?  He should have been Outcast as soon as he began to babble information into the Horde’s ears.”  
  
“He was upset about Druiel’s Fall,” Novalis pointed out.  “He was not thinking clearly.  Striking with a hammer at a mistake will not correct the error, but only break the hand of the one who made it.”  
  
David’s face, set hard in determinmation, did not change.  “My vote stands.”  
  
Michael grabbed the handle of his axe, as if to draw it forth and smite David right there, but Dominic stayed his hand, and the Archangel of War sat back down, his eyes seemingly boiling with anger.  
  
“The vote is not unanimous,” Laurence noted, “so by agreement Retzel must remain in Heaven, safe from Andrealphus.”  
  
Zadkiel bowed her head down in defeat, and even Michael looked terribly weary and lost.  
  
“However, I will remind you all that Council votes are merely advisory.  Ultimately, decisions that might affect the Host as a whole are my responsibility, for good or ill.  So therefore, I choose to veto the Council’s decision, and allow Retzel to do as she sees fit.”  
  
Zadkiel’s raised her head, her eyes wide with surprise, and Laurence even had the rare privilidge of seeing Michael rendered speechless.  
  
“Make no mistake, I  _still_  think that the price we are paying to return Christopher to us is too high.  I believe that Retzel’s long self-incarceration to avoid Andrealphus’ gaze has rendered her quite mad, and incapable of seeing the grim tortures that lay before her.  I do not Truthfully believe that Christopher will be capable of maintaining his Word as before.  I do believe that he will have to be brought to Trial for the grave mistakes in judgement he has made.  It is possible that he might even Fall.  But even knowing that, it is not our place, as Michael said, to prevent someone from making a Selfless choice, however futile it may be in the end.  For in the end, that is the difference between Heaven and Hell, the need to do what we believe is right, no matter what the personal cost.”  
  
_I am the Sword, wielded by God.  A fine sword, a strong sword, is made to bend, so that it does not break.  
  
* * *  
  
New York, NY_  
  
There was some sweet irony in the fact that to go to Liberty Island now, you hand to pass through a metal detector manned by armed security guards, Zadkiel thought.  No doubt that put the owner of the Tether on edge.   _Good_.  
  
After the ferry ride, she spoke shortly to the Seneschal, and  was passed through a small doorway, and allowed to walk up the stairs to what was probably the most private place on the island, the balcony of Liberty’s torch.  
  
“Aren’t you afraid of some human seeing us?” she asked the short, red haired woman who waited for her there.  They were in full view of Liberty’s crown, though it was in between elevator loads of tourists at the moment.  It was the dead of winter on this portion of the Earth, and the wind blowing here at the torch chilled Zadkiel’s Vessel to the bone.  
  
“No one will see anything here that I don’t  _want_  them to see,” Lilith answered, smiling slightly as she leaned both elbows o nthe railing.  “If you of all angels can’t feel the protective wards around this place, you must be doing worse than your fellow Cherub.”  
  
Zadkiel’s face grew flushed with anger.  “Don’t you dare joke about that!”  
  
“My apologies then, Archangel Zadkiel,” she said, though she didn’t stop smiling.  “Now, since you’re so rude enough to block my resonance, why don’t you tell me what you Need from me?”  
  
The Cherub drew a breath to calm down. For the sake of Christopher and poor, mad Retzel, she had to remain focused.   “I Need to meet with Andrealphus, to negotiate for Christopher’s release.  I also Need you to courier the message, and to set up thing on neutral ground, on Earth or in the Marches, it doesn’t matter which.”  
  
Lilith nodded, the smile dissapearing as she became all business.  “Any particular parameters you wish to make known to him?”  
  
“I want it small.  Just him and me, plus an additional servitor each if he so wishes.  And I wish it to happen as soon as possible.”  
  
“That can be arranged.”  Lilith held out her hand and Zadkiel took it, the geas band forming as a heavy brass bracelet on the archangel’s wrist.  “I’ll see to things immediately.”  The demon princess paused. “Care for a little information as well?”  
  
Zadkiel frowned.  “For what price?”  
  
“An open exchange on either side, no geasa involved.  I’ve got a few questions myself.”  
  
“Done.”  
  
The red haired woman nodded.  “Here’s what I’m sure you’d like to know.  Christopher is alive, but he’s in very bad shape.  One of my girls in Andre’s employ got a glimpse of the poor kid while she was servicing a customer down in the dungeons.  It’s as bad as you might expect, perhaps worse.  Whatever Lust has been doing to him is making him go Dissonant.”  
  
_Oh, God._   “Thank you, that is important to me.  What would you like to know in turn?”  
  
“Just what _is_  going on upstairs in the Seraphim Council?  From what little I’ve gathered, Larry has been dragging his wings in a most un-Malakite manner during this crisis.  You’d almost think he didn’t want Christopher back.”  
  
She closed her eyes in pain.  “The Truth of the matter?  I don’t really think he does.  But the Seraphim Council was nearly unanimous in it’s desire to see Christopher returned, so he went along rather than provoke an open revolt.”  
  
“ _Almost_  unanimous?  Who voted against it?”  
  
“That information will cost you,” Zadkiel said, zipping up her Kevlar lined parka to her chin.  The wind coming across Hudson Bay seemed to grow a hair colder, though it was probably her imagination.  
  
“One little tidbit more then,” Lilith said agreeably.  “Druiel managed to get on Andre’s bad side somehow, despite the help he gave in betraying Christopher.  Andre was sufficiently peeved to knock him about a little, and Saminga hasn’t seen fit to come to his servitor’s defense.”  
  
“Interesting.  Pity Andre didn’t soul kill the murderous little betrayer,” Zadkiel said coldly.  “As for the Council’s vote, David voted against attempting to rescue Christopher, while Yves, Jean, and Gabriel abstained.”  
  
“ _David_  voted against him?”  Lilith actually looked surprised.  “I knew there was bad blood between them over the Hunts, but surely there’s more to it than that.”  
  
“Perhaps there is, perhaps there isn’t, Lilith, but more than that I won’t say.”  Zadkiel opened the door to the torch’s interior.  “You will contact me when you received word from Andrealphus?”  
  
“Of course.  A pleasure doing business with you, Lady Zadkiel.”   
  
“Thank you.”  Zadkiel made to go, but then something made her turn about and ask, “Do you care, Lilith?  Do you care whether Christopher lives or dies?”  
  
The First Woman raised an eyebrow.  “Honestly?  I’ve never thought much about him.  He’s one of the few Superiors who has never had dealings with me, and he’s certainly not hostile.  So at least from the business perspective I haven’t much reason to care either way.”  
  
“You should.  Christopher cared about you.  He spoke of the situation between you and your daughters often enough in our conversations.”  
  
“Good things, one hopes.”  
  
“Worried is more like it.  He couldn’t understand how the First Woman could create life as you do, and then treat your offspring so callously.”  
  
Lilith frowned in irritation.  “All my daughters are given a choice when I create them.  Whether they choose to be Free or a Servitor is up to them.”  
  
“Hard to be Free, when the price is to wear nine shackles with your mother’s signature on them.  That troubled…  _troubles…_  Christopher to no end.”  
  
“Well, if you actually manage to get Christopher back, tell him to give me a ring, and we can discuss it,” Lilith said, her face returning to a more neutral expression.  “I think by the time this is over he should have learned some important lessons when it comes to idealism, eh?”  
  
Zadkiel frowned at her again, then retreated down the stairs.  
  
* * *  
  
_He lies, he lies, he lies…_  The dissonance  _screeched_  in Christopher’s ears, and he let out a whimper of pain.  The shrinking, rational portion of his mind recognized the destructive act of Cherubic self-resonance, as he tried to deny to the Truths he needed to know. The greater portion of his mind didn’t care, and could hear the chalkboard screams in his head. _It can not be Truth. It can not!_  
  
The door opened, and Druiel slipped through, careful to stay out of the range of Christopher’s Celestial form, which was held into place by a spiked Will collar and a short length of chain.  
  
“You look like shit, Dad.”  Druiel… Druiel wasn’t looking at him.  Was staring at the walls, staring at the ceiling, was staring everywhere except right at Christopher.  
  
“ _Hurrhh,_ ” Christopher murmured, unable to gather energy to speak further.  
  
Druiel stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and finally met Christopher’s gaze.  “Just wanted to see you one more time before Andre dumped you.  You’re lucky.  Turns out you’re gonna go free.”  
  
He swallowed, tasting blood (not real blood, how could there be in the Celestial realms?)  “F-free?”  
  
“Yeah, Prince Pretty Boi is gonna be taking you for a meet with Zaddy to hand you over.  Lucky you.”  
  
“W-why?”   _I know why.  Let it not be Truth, please God._  
  
Druiel kneeled down to get a little closer.  “You can’t guess?”  
  
“No, no,  _no!_ ” Christopher growled.  “He cannot have  _Retzel!_   They would not  _give her_  to him!”   _They would do anything, if they thought they could.  They murdered the Grigori of Children.  They would… would not… would… wouldnotwouldwouldwouldnotnotnotnotnotnotnotnot…_ He screamed in pain as the broken, bleeding wings tore themselves through his skin, flapping open uselessly, rotting grey feathers falling away.  
  
Druiel backed away from him, so fast his shoulders bounced up against the far wall.  “ _Blessit_ , what the fuck is the  _matter_  with you?  You’re going  _home,_  you bastard!”  
  
“Can’t… trade… me… for… her.  Can’t…  They can’t…”  
  
“Hey, at least you’re getting out of here.  You know Lord Rottting Flesh hasn’t let me have Earthside duty since I came down here?”  
  
Christopher blinked, focusing on Druiel instead of his own pain.  “Stop being… so selfish…”  
  
“Oh,  _fuck you_  very much, Dad.  At least I came down to visit again, after Pretty Prince beat the  _shit_  out of me.”  He waved a bracelet in Christopher’s face. “Had to take a geas shackle from a lilim just to get healed up properly.”  
  
“Why…?”  
  
“Why  _what?_ ”  
  
“Why did you… come back?”  
  
“Fuck if I know,” Druiel growled.  He shook his head.  “Just wanted to see you before you went back up, I guess.  Make sure I remembered why I came down here”  
  
“I thought… you didn’t care.”  
  
“ _I don’t_.”  He made as if to kick at Christopher, but then apprently thought better of getting in striking distance of the Cherub’s bearish jaws.  “It’s  _better_  down here.  I can do anything I want!”  
  
_Oh, my child._   “You just said… Saminga won’t… let you go… Earthside.”  
  
“Maybe I just don’t want to!”  
  
“Maybe… you just  _think…_  you don’t want to… Balseraph.”  
  
“ _Shut up, Dad!”_ s time Druiel didn’t hesitate, and the kick caught Christopher under his jaw, shattering teeth.  “Just  _shut up!”_  
  
Christopher said nothing after that, of course.  But after that, there wasn’t much to be said anyway.  
  
* * *  
  
_Final Interlude_  
  
“Beautiful Prince?”  
  
“Yes, dear?  
  
“May I come with you, when you hand Lord Christopher to Zadkiel?”  
  
“Presumptious aren’t we?  What makes you think I’m not still angry with you over how you hurt the little Cherub so?”  
  
“You haven’t killed me.  And you let me see him again.”  
  
“Truth.  Given how Christopher is doing lately, I doubt your little moment with him will effect the eventual negotiations.  But why would you want to?”  
  
“I just want to see the look on Lady Zadkiel’s face, when she sees what a foolish bargain she made.”  
  
“You’re such a dear.  It’s lovely to see children finally grow up.”  
  
* * *  
  
_The Boneyard, AZ_  
  
Zadkiel glanced at the bodies of giants that littered the desert floor, their bodies bleaching in the cold light of the sun.  The aircraft, abandoned because of their owners’ poverty, neglect, or merely age, were parked haphazardly around the shuttered airport.  From her point of view it wasn’t an ideal location to conduct this ugly business, there were far too many places for potential snipers to hide among the dead airliners, but at least the area around the runway was open.  
  
“What now, Milady?” Elsa asked beside her, wearing the vessel of a tall woman of african descent.  She’d chosen to manifest her Oath chains openly, wrapped as heavy silver jewelry at her forearms and as a belt.  Zadkiel wore her usual Earthside form, matronly and comforting.  _I could use some comfort myself right now._  
  
“Wait for Andrealphus, and then hopefully get Christopher back.  God forgive us.”  
  
Disturbance clanged in the Symphony, and Andrealphus appeared.  His form was female, and to an undescerning eye beautiful, though to Zadkiel it was just gaudy, with impossibly heavy breasts, pouting lips, and eyes that begged to be stared into.  _Whore indeed._  
  
A figure stepped out from behind him, young, handsome, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans.  Zadkiel heard Elsa draw in a surprised breath.   _Druiel._  
  
“Oh, how  _dare_  he…” Elsa hissed.  
  
“Not one song, not one  _note_ , Elsa,” Zadkiel whispered urgently.  “We are here to recover Christopher and  _nothing else.”  
  
“Yes,_  Milady,” Elsa growled.  
  
“Hello, Zadkiel darling!” Andrealphus greeted with much false cheer.  “And who is this with you?”  
  
“I am Elsa, Malakite of Creation, Angel of Halloween Candy, in service to Children,” Elsa answered, her voice tight and controlled.  
  
“Ah, so what  _would_  you say if I offered you some candy, little girl?” Andrealphus asked.  
  
“I’m more inclined to ask why  _Druiel_  is here, Andrealphus,” Zadkiel intervened.  Elsa drew in a breath and visibly clamped down on her anger.  
  
“Because he  _wanted_  to be, Zadkiel,” Andrealphus answered.  “The poor boy just wants to give his old superior a nice sendoff.  Don’t you think that’s sweet?”  Andre patted Druiel’s shoulder, and the Balseraph smiled at them.   _And if you crack one joke, make one remark against your former Archangel, I will have your head, traitor,_ Zadkiel thought savagely.  
  
“Let’s get this over with, Lord Andrealphus,” she said.  “Bring Christopher here.”  
  
Andre’s smile became just a hair tighter.  “My darling Retzel first, Zadkiel.  I’m not so much the fool that I’ll allow two of Heaven’s superiors to face just myself, even if Chrissie is feeling a bit under the weather.”  
  
“Very well.”  
  
Andre’s smile sharpened further.  “You  _did_  prepare her as I requested, did you not, Lady Zadkiel?”  
  
“ _Yes,_  damn you,” Zadkiel snarled.  She sang briefly, and took Retzel down from Heaven, to stand upon the Earth for the first time in twenty thousand years.  
  
Naked, bound in chains and Will shackles, Retzel blinked, taking in the alien landscape around her, the desert, the bones of the aircraft, the harsh, unblinking sun.  “Is this…  is this Hell, Lady Zadkiel?” she asked timidly.  
  
“ _Retzel_ ,” Andrealphus called out, and Retzel turned to stare at him, eyes wide with hope.  Then her eyes examined his form, and grew narrow, and her face fell.    
  
“Not Hell, this is the Earth,” Zadkiel said.   _He is not what he was, Retzel, I’m sorry.  You held out hope for him, for thousand upon thousands of years, and it was for nothing._  
  
“Come here, darling Retzel!” Andrealphus called out.  “It’s been so very, very long.  We’ll have such fun together!”  He clasped his hands, a  _hunger_  in his eyes that he didn’t even try to hide.   _How long has this itch been waiting to be scratched, Demon Prince, how long?_  
  
Zadkiel laid a hand on Retzel’s bare shoulder.  She was starting to shiver from the cold.  At the very least from the cold.  “Bring Christopher here, Andre,” Zadkiel called out, “or we take Retzel home, and you’ll never see her again.”  
  
Andre sang, the notes torn from his personal band screeching in Zadkiel’s ears, and Christopher appeared, crouching on the ground, his face hidden.  
  
As Retzel was naked and chained, so was Christopher.  But unlike Retzel, he not endured his confinement so well.  Whip scars marked his body, bleeding onto the runway’s tarmac.  Open sores bled from his hands and feet.  Bloody, broken wings pierced his back.  A thick, pink, useless tail fell to the ground behind him, and blunted horns emerged from his head.  
  
“Oh, no.  Oh, God in Heaven, no,” Elsa murmured, her face grown pale.  Retzel brought her bound hands up to hide her eyes and weep.  
  
This was worse, much worse than Zadkiel had been expecting, even with Lilith’s warning about Christopher going Dissonant.  The Discord marked and tore at his soul, and there would be no removing it.  
  
“Christopher… _Christopher!_ ” Zadkiel called out.  He looked up at her, rising with difficulty, his eyes wide and empty.  
  
“Zad-- Zadkiel,” he said painfully, his voice deepened by the Discord, grating, “El--sa.  Ret-- no, no… not Retzel…  please not Retzel…”  
  
“What did you  _do_  to him, Andrealphus!” Zadkiel cried out.  “What in the name of Heaven’s Host did you  _do?_ ”  
  
“Do?  I did nothing to him, at least nothing that he wouldn’t normally recover from in time,” Andrealphus said cheerfully.  “Oh,  I suppose I did mention one or two little facts of life to him.  Such as how the opening to his current job came about.  Seems he wasn’t briefed on his predecessor’s perfidy, or what Stone and Creation did to her afterward.  Imagine that.”  
  
“Zadkiel…” Christopher rasped, “tell me that… he lies… tell me that he spoke  _lies_.”  
  
“You two can talk later, Chrissie,” Andrea said.  “Retzel, come to Momma.”  
  
“ _No!_   No bargains!  You can not have her!  I deny this!” Christopher screamed.  “ _I deny it!_   Zadkiel, tell me he  _lies!_ ”  
  
Zadkiel closed her eyes briefly, then forced herself to meet Christopher’s desperate gaze.  “I am sorry, Christopher.  Andrealphus, in this one thing, speaks Truth.  There was an Archangel with the Word of Children before you ever existed.  She was one of the Grigori, and was Outcast with them, for it was her that perpetuated their sin of hiding the Nephalim from the Host.  For that, even after being Outcast, she was hunted down by Heaven and vilely murdered.  I’m sorry, it is Truth, and may you someday forgive us for it.”  
  
“ _No…”_   Christopher collapsed to his knees, covering his head with his arms, the Discord roiling his body.  Druiel, who had remained silent during the exchange, blanched and stepped back from his former superior, as if fearing his taint.  
  
“He Falling, oh dear God he’s  _Falling,_ ” Elsa exclaimed.  “Milady Zadkiel we have to help him!”  
  
“Andrealphus!  Give Christopher to us now!” Zadkiel called out.  
  
“Retzel first, Zadkiel!” Andrealphus shouted back, “Else all you’re going to get back is a djinn in chains to execute.  I’m sure the rest of the Host will look forward to seeing history repeat itself.”  
  
“It’s all right, Milady,” Retzel said softly, her eyes upon the Discordant archangel that had sheltered her.  “I will go to him, for good or ill.  Please, be merciful with Christopher, when you take him home.”  She stepped away from Zadkiel and Elsa, the chains of her shackles rattling on the broken tarmac of the runway.  
  
“Don’t you want to stop her, Christopher?” Andrealphus asked.  
  
In answer, Christopher only shook his head and moaned, “ _I don’t care.  I don’t care…”_   Zadkiel could have wept as she heard the Angelic words slowly begin to twist themselves into Helltongue.  
  
“Retzel, come here, darling,” Andrealphus crooned.  He gathered his last servitor in his arms as she reached him.  
  
“Lord Andrealphus, please let Christopher go,” she said, wincing as he held her tightly.  
  
“That’s  _Prince_  Andrealphus, little Retzel,” he said, his fingers brushing through her hair,  grabbing hold, pulling her head back painfully as he began to invade her mouth.  Retzel let out a muffled cry of pain, and beside Zadkiel, Elsa flinched.  
  
“My Lady, what should we do?” the Malakite demanded.  
  
“We can’t face down two demon princes, Elsa, I’m sorry,” Zadkiel said, “I can’t face them both.”  
  
“Christopher isn’t, Christopher  _won’t_ ,” Elsa said desperately.  She rushed forward, heedless of Zadkiel’s cries of warning.  “Christopher!  Stop!  You have not Fallen yet!  You are still an archangel!”  
  
“ _It doesn’t matter, Elsa.  Go away,”_  Christopher growled.  “ _There is no place in Heaven for me now._ ”  
  
“ _Elsa!_  Get back here _now!_ ” Zadkiel called out.  
  
The Malakite kneeled beside Christopher, cupping his head in her hands.  “Christopher, you have been loyal to me, as my Creator was not.  You have always spoken Truth to me, and listened when I spoke Truth in turn.  You never demanded more of my oaths than I was able to give.  You will  _not_  Fall, Lord Christopher!  And if you do… then…  I will find some way to Fall with you!  Malakite chains or not, I will Fall with you!”  
  
“Go away, Malakite,” Andrealphus said, as he released Retzel’s hair, leaving the Mercurian weeping in pain.  He raised a hand to strike Elsa…  
  
At which point several things happened at once.  
  
…Christopher caught Andrealphus’ arm and screamed, “ _She is MINE!”_  
  
…Zadkiel began to run forward, drawing a gun from her coat.  
  
….Druiel grabbed at Retzel, yanking her out of Andre’s grasp.  
  
…Elsa leaped upward, catching Andre in the stomach with her shoulder.  
  
Christopher pulled Andre down toward him, trying to get the Prince of Lust caught in his chains.  Meanwhile Andre fired a blast of pure force at Druiel, who had mainfested a pair of wings and was trying to fly away with a struggling Retzel.  He also kicked at Elsa with his Superior level strength, sending her flying across the Boneyard to crash through the body of an airliner lying in pieces on the ground.  Zadkiel raised up her gun, trying to find a clear shot between the struggling figures.  
  
The blast caught Druiel and Retzel full on, sending them both crashing to the earth.  Christopher let out another wordless scream, and held onto Andre’s arm with all of his remaining strength, screaming invective at Lust in a mixture of Helltongue and Angelic.  
  
“ _Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Elsa is MINE, you can’t have her!”_  he screamed.   _“You can’t have Retzel!  You can’t have EITHER of them!  I LOVE THEM!”_  
  
Andre, probably realizing he couldn’t handle fighting off Christopher and dodging Zadkiel’s fire, began to sing up a Song of Motion to get away.  
  
And that was when the Symphony began to sing in Zadkiel’s ears, in a manner she truly hadn’t heard for quite some time.  A bright glow began to envelope Christopher, and he screamed as the Light began to burn away the Discord entrapping his form.  Zadkiel couldn’t turn away, even as the Light threatened to blind her, even as Andre began to scream in earnest as the outer corona brushed against his Vessel.  
  
Then the Light began to fade, leaving her blinking, the previously harsh light of the desert almost appearing to nighttime by comparision, though there was enough to cast Christopher in a shadow…  
  
_…no, not a shadow,_ Zadkiel thought blankly.  The naked, pale, and chained Cherub was gone.  In his place was another sort of sort of angel, still naked, still chained, but dark in countenance, as Christopher never had truly been.  
  
“ _Mine,_  Andrealphus,” the Malakite Archangel repeated, as Lust struggled in his grasp.  And then he grasped Andre’s neck in one hand and  _twisted_.  Zadkiel  _heard_  the Forces that made Andre up scream as he tried to abandon the broken Vessel, but Christopher was too quick.  The blast of pure Celestial fire from Christopher’s hand caught Andre’s insubstantial Celestial form straight on, scattering his Forces to the Symphony in a Dissonant cry that deafened Zadkiel and must have been heard over the entire Earth and beyond.  
  
And then there was a long moment of silence, broken only by the wind whistling through the aluminum hulks that surrounded them.  Christopher lowered his hand, looking at the black chains that bound him, now not of Will, but of Oath.  
  
“Christopher… what…?” Zadkiel began to ask.  But Christopher was moving away, heading in the direction of where the three servitors had fallen.  
  
Elsa was pulling herself out of the aircraft’s wreckage, hand over hand, dragging her shattered legs and lower torso behind her.  As Zadkiel had, she stopped in mute surprise when she caught sight of Christopher’s new form.  
  
“Zadkiel, please heal Elsa.  I must find Retzel,” he ordered, manifesting a pair of black wings and taking to the air.  
  
“ _Ahh,_  Lady Zadkiel, what  _happened?_ ” Elsa asked, as Zadkiel laid her hands on her wounds and sang them away.  
  
“Deux ex Machina,” Zadkiel answered, “quite literally.”  With Elsa healed now, they both took to the air, to find Christopher kneeling over the unconcious forms of Druiel and Retzel.  Druiel had taken the full brunt of Andre’s blast, apparently shielding Retzel, and they had both landed on the hard packed desert floor near the remains of a needle nosed military jet.  
  
“Retzel, Druiel, awaken,” Christopher said softly, placing one hand on each of their bodies.  The song of Healing glowed about them, and they both said up, joining Elsa and Zadkiel in staring in wonderment at his new form.  
  
“What happened to you, Lord Christopher. Where… where is Lord Andrealphus?” Retzel asked hesitantly.  
  
“By God’s will I have changed, dear Retzel,” Christopher answered, taking hold of her hand gently.  “And by God’s will, I was given the strength to scatter Andre’s Forces back into the Symphony.  He is dead, Retzel.  I’m sorry if this pains you.”  
  
“My Archangel was dead before that,” Retzel answered sadly.  “God forgive me for not seeing that, and hiding myself away.”  
  
“Do not apologize for holding onto your faith, Retzel,” Zadkiel said.  “You held onto the hope that even a demon Prince might Redeem, which is more strength of conviction than many Archangels could claim. There is no shame in that.”  
  
“Speaking of shame…”  Elsa leaned over Druiel, who was looking rather conflicted, somewhere between a trapped animal and a child about to be rescued.  “What were you up to when you flew off with Retzel like that?”  
  
“He was hurting her,” Druiel answered simply.  “And he had hurt Christopher.  And I tried to tell myself that they deserved it, and they were weak, but I…”  He shook his head, and tears began to flow from his eyes.  
  
Christopher took hold of the shoulders of his former servitor, and made the Balseraph face him.  “Druiel, Balserpah Angel of Teenage Death, do you wish to Redeem?” he asked sharply.  
  
“I… I don’t know if I should… I don’t know if I can…  I don’t know…”  
  
“That’s a good start,” Christopher said, and drew Druiel up into the Light of Heaven.  
  
* * *  
  
Michael propped his feet up on the table and watched as the rest of the Council shuffled, flew, and translocated into the chamber.  The overall mood in the chamber was somber, but he couldn’t bring himself to join in the gloom.   _We’ve got a Demon Prince dead, what’s not to celebrate?_   Yeah, it would have been nice for Christopher to have stayed a whitewing, but it wasn’t as if he’d had much choice in the matter.   _When God says jump, you just gotta say “How high?”_  
  
“You’re in a jovial mood,” Dominic said, gliding up beside him.  
  
“Christopher is home, Retzel is safe, and Andrealphus is dead, dead,  _dead,_ ” he replied.  “What’s not to like?”  
  
“It doesn’t appear that Laurence agrees with you.”  Dominic motioned to the far end of the chamber, where the Lord Commander sat, his face a dark study.  “One would think he and David would welcome a new member of their Choir to the Seraphim Council’s body.”  
  
“ _We’re_  in the same Choir, Dominic,” Michael pointed out.  “Aside from this recent crisis, we haven’t seen eye-to-eye all that often.  As far as I’m concerned, Laurence can sit on his sword pommel and spin.”  
  
“What a… creative… image,” Dominic said dryly.  “And we will have to see if your observation about our relationship holds true in the future.”  
  
Judgement settled into his seat as the doors to the council chamber opened once again, and a dark, black winged figure entered.  The normal buzz of the council quieted down abruptly as Christopher, with black wings, and oath chains at his wrists and ankles, made his way to his customary seat, accepting a hug from Novalis, and a quiet handshake from Yves along the way.  
  
Laurence cleared his throat to break the silence.  “Lord Christopher, Malakite Archangel of Children,” and  _oh_ , didn’t Larry’s face twist at that little change, “has requested to address the Council as a whole.  Are there an objections?”  Nobody offered any.  Nobody dared.  The collective guilt hanging over the Host after word had gotten back concerning Chris’ treatment at the hands of Andre, not to mention his near Fall, had pretty much shut up anyone who still had any notion of Children being a Minor Word.  Even David was keeping his granite mouth shut over this.  
  
Christopher made his to the front of the chamber, taking Laurence’s place at the podium.  There was a confidence in his step that Michael had never seen before, but there was also something missing as well.  It nagged at the back of his brain, but he set it aside to listen to Christopher speak.  
  
“Lords and Ladies of the Council,” he said, “let me begin by reciting my oaths.”  
  
_“I will suffer not an evil to live, if it is my choice.  
I will never surrender or permit myself to be captured by the forces of Lucifer.  
I will never harm a child.  
I will never lie to a child.  
I will not permit Unjust cruelty to a fellow Angel go unanswered.”  
  
Oh,  **Lightbringer** , _Michael thought silently, as the rest of the Council absorbed that last one,  _this is going to be interesting._  
  
Christopher placed his hands on the front of the podium and continued.  “I am the Archangel of Children, but this was not always so.  I hold my Word only because the one who held it before me is long dead.  Dead, not at the hands of Lucifer or his minions, but at the hands the Host.  Vilely murdered, after having already been judged and punished for her crimes, along with the rest of her Choir.  This taint follows the Word of Children even today, though I was not truly aware of it until a Demon Prince revealed to me truths that my fellow Archangels chose to keep hidden from me.”  
  
“I cannot let this stand.  The Truth’s strength may only be maintained by the honesty of those who speak it.  And the Truth of this matter is that a vile offense was committed against one who was once part of Heaven, and who might have been again if she and her Choir repented for their crime.  Instead, her voice was silenced, and the Hunts against her Choirmates would continue, by servitors who  _may_  have been acting with tacit, if unspoken, approval of their Superiors.”  
  
“I call upon the Seraphim Council to review the matter of the Grigori.  It has been over thirteen thousand years since they banished from Heaven.  I cannot believe that in all that time not a single  _one_  of them has not come to regret their defiance of Heaven’s edicts, and might desire to be admitted to Heaven once again, to serve God’s Will, and watch over Mankind as God  _designed_  them to do.  I also call upon the Council to search more closely for those involved with the Hunts.  To strike down a Discordant and Outcast angel is one thing.  To murder the human family that have joined them is quite another thing, and  _not_  acceptable, no matter how far the definition of Justice is twisted.”  
  
“To that end, I ask that a search be made for whatever Grigori might remain upon the Earth, preferably by members of Flowers, and that they be asked if they wish their status to be examined by Judgement.   Thirteen thousand years of punishment is enough, by anyone’s definition.  Also, I request that whatever Memory Pearls remain that hold servitors’ memories of the first Archangel of Children be restored to their owners.  I, of course, have no knowledge of her myself, and I strongly desire to know her better, so I might learn from wisdom she passed down, and see what mistakes she made that forced her Outcasting in the first place.  As the human phase goes, ‘Those who forget the mistakes of the past are doomed to repeat them.’  I have no desire, nor intention, to forget anything that has happened.”  
  
“One further matter: Andrealphus, the Impudite Prince of Lust, is dead.  Dead with him is the Mercurian Archangel of Love, who is finally beyond any hope of Redemption.  Now that this Demon Prince is finally gone, it opens the opportunity for the Word of Love to be once again held by an Angel, so that it might nurtured and strengthened in a world that seems increasingly callous and distant.  To this end, I put forth a request that Retzel, Angel of Parental Love, be promoted to this Word.  Though she has remained outside of Heaven’s community for some time, not without good reason, I can think of no one else who might hold this Word more dearly in their own Heart.  For she remained hopeful, and faithful, against all evidence to the contrary, that Andrealphus might someday see the error of his ways and return to Heaven’s bosum, because she loved him more than he even loved himself.”  
  
He bowed briefly to the Council.  “I realized I’ve asked much of you, and there will be serious and lengthy debate over the matters I have brought to your attention.  So I will leave you now, to consider my words and debate on their merit.  I only beg that you not take  _too_  long to consider them, espeically the matter of the Grigori. Few enough of that Choir remain on the Earth, and I would not wish witness their complete extinction before they are granted the opportunity to return to Heaven.  Farewell.”  Christopher stepped down from the podium and exited without looking back.  It was only when the doors closed behind him that Michael let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  
  
As the voices of the various Council members began to fill the air, Dominic made his way to Michael’s seat once again, and noted simply, “That was… considerably more restrained… than I was expecting.”  
  
“ _Restrained?_ ” Michael hooted.  “Sure, just ask the Seraphim Council to reverse a thirteen thousand year old decision and let the Choir that nearly loved Humanity to death back into Heaven.  Plus accuse David of complicity in the first Children’s murder.  Oh, yeah, and ask to promote an angel that might be more mentally unbalanced than Gabriel to Andre’s old post.  Sure, why not?  And people have the gall to call  _me_ undiplomatic.”  
  
“I will note that he did  _not_  accuse David of direct involvement in the Hunts, particularly concerning the death of the first Archangel of Children,” Dominic noted primly.  “Furthermore, despite certainly having the weight of the Council’s guilt concerning his capture and torture on his side, niether did Christopher make any public accusations against Laurence, though he easily could have.”  
  
“Ah, Truth,” Michael admitted, sobering up a bit.  “The kid’s learning the game, at least a bit.  So what did you think of his modest proposal concerning the Watchers?”  
  
Dominic’s eyes ripple-blinked.  “The recent revelations concerning the Hunts is something to be closely considered, in the context of the Grigori’s Outcasting.  It is possible that the Judgement against them has finally be served.  If the remainder of their Choir could be persuaded to admit culpability in some form to their crimes, I will certainly consider remanding their sentence, the Council permitting.”  
  
“You think they’ve got a chance?”  
  
“Anything is possible, if God wills it.  I will be more interested to learn whether the Council accepts Christopher’s nomination of Retzel to the Word of Love.”  
  
“They will, if they don’t I’ll know the reason why.  Right now Christopher has enough moral authority to ask Larry and David to dress in tutus and dance Swan Lake to amuse the relievers.  Handing out the Word of Love, especially compared to opening the whole can of worms concerning the old Children’s murder, is an easy thing to agree to.  I give her a century before they promote her to Archangel.”  
  
Dominic let out a rare chuckle.  “And Christopher to the position of Commander of the Host.”  
  
Michael’s good mood evaporated.  “Damn, I just just realized what was missing, when you laughed just then” he said.  
  
“Missing from what?”  
  
“Christopher, when he entered the chamber.  I was thinking that he looked a lot more confident when he came it, but that he was also missing something.  I didn’t know what it was but I do now.”  
  
Dominic cocked his head.  “What then?”  
  
“He wasn’t smiling.  As long as I’ve known the kid, so long as he wasn’t directly confronted with something awful, you could always count on him to smile, or at least try to find the bright side of things.  He didn’t smile once the whole time he was in the chamber.”  
  
“He grew up, Michael, I fear to say,” Dominic said gravely.  
  
“Yes, too fast.”  
  
* * *  
  
Laurence found Christopher on the edge of the lake, near his Cottage.  The young Malakite was sitting crosslegged at the end of the dock, watching the young Blessed Souls frolic in the water and play with relievers in the guise of dolphins and more fantastic creatures.  There was a young reliever in Christopher’s lap, watching the whole proceeding with intense curiousity.  
  
“Lord Christopher,” he greeted.  
  
“Commander,” Christopher replied, glancing up at him but making no move to stand.  He patted the little reliever on the head.  “This is Lord Commaner Laurence, little one.  Say hello.”  
  
“Hello!  Hey, he’s got black wings like you!” the reliever piped up.  
  
“Yes, I do,” Laurence replied, kneeling down beside them both.  “What’s your name, little one?”  
  
The young reliever scrunched up his brows in concentration.  “I’m Dr--Druiel.  I’m a re-reliever!  I help people!”  
  
Laurence smiled carefully.  “’Druiel’, that’s a very good name.”  
  
“I like it!” Druiel said, lifting off from Christopher’s lap to fly a quick circle around the two archangels.  “I like helping people too!”  
  
“Druiel, would you like to play with the others in the lake?  Laurence and I need to talk,” Christopher asked.  
  
“Sure!  Bye-bye, Laurence!  Bye-bye, Dad!”  Druiel sped off without a backward glance towards a game of Marco Polo that was beginning to start.  
  
Christopher watched him go, looking a little sad.  “He’s a good child,” the archangel noted.  
  
“His redemption did not go easily, I take it?” Laurence asked.  
  
“No, not easily,” Christopher agreed.  “He was not at all certain he’d made the right choice, or whether he was worthy of redemption at all.  He lost much in the transistion, including most of his memories.  Perhaps I should have waited before making the attempt, so soon after.”  
  
“No redemption goes easily,” Laurence noted.  “At the very least he survived it.  That’s not always for certain.  The fact that he lost his memories as well might be considered a disguised blessing.”  
  
Christopher’s expression hardened.  “When he is older, I will tell Druiel all that happened, from his Fall, to his selfless acts in the defense of Retzel, to his Redemption.  There is no room for deception.”  
  
“Truth.”  Laurence shifted uncomfortably, then adopted Christopher’s crosslegged posture.  “I would like to say… that I am sorry, Lord Christopher, for the suffering you endured, and the deceptions that partially led to it.  But I did not see another way.”  
  
Christopher nodded gravely, and raised his shackled arms.  “Until I felt these chains bind me, I did not realize how heavy a burden they could truly be.  You were acting for the betterment of the Host as a whole, Laurence.  I will not deny at the time of my capture I was more of a burden for Heaven than an asset.”  He shook his head.  “I had even managed to turn Blandine against me.  You did what you thought you must.”  
  
Laurence let out a sigh.  “Dominic would say I’d blinded myself to other alternatives.  I  _know_  that I acted, if not dishonorably, at least in a manner that favored expedience over what was Right.”  
  
“Mmm.  Speaking of what is Right, do you have an opinion concerning the Grigori Matter?”  
  
“Your proposal has… possibilities… Lord Christopher.  But I might tell you that in all the time of Grigori’s exile, none have approached any of the Host to request their Outcasting be lifted from them.”  
  
“Hard to approach a Tether to speak to someone, when they faced the possibility of seeing themselves and whatever family they have be murdered by the people they have to beg forgiveness from,” Christopher noted.  “That must change.  Those who persecuted and murdered the Grigori must be made to face Judgement.”  
  
Laurence frowned.  “Politically speaking, that might not be the wisest course.  We must not face the threat of the Horde with a house divided.”  
  
Christopher levered himself up to a standing position, and Laurence did likewise.  “Politically speaking, I don’t  _care_ , Lord Commander.  If we can only maintain our unity by harboring murderers among us, then we do not  _deserve_  to win the fight against the forces of Lucifer.  You wish Heaven’s house to be united?  Then let us begin by welcoming back the Choir that has been seperated from it for so very long.”  
  
“Judgement may not agree with you,” Laurence warned.   _When did Christopher become taller than me?_  he wondered, standing beside him for the first time since his change.  
  
“That is for Dominic to decide.  As for myself, earlier I forgave you for doing what you believed was right for the Host.  Well, now I must act for what is right for the Host as well.  I would appreciate it if you did not interfere.”  Christopher crossed his arms, and stared Laurence down.  
  
“As you wish,” Laurence said, realizing he’d overstayed his welcome.  “Good day to you, Lord Christopher.”  
  
“Good day, Lord Commander.”  
  
_Be careful on your path, Christopher,_  Laurence thought as he left the Cottage’s grounds.   _David thought he was doing the right thing as well, once._  
  
**The End**


End file.
